Broken Palace
by Angela Jewell
Summary: [AU] Five years ago, tragedy struck. An engagement was broken and a family was exiled. Now, returning to the place where it all began, Ranma's out for revenge. . .
1. Chapter 1

C & C welcome, not to mention needed.  
Updated: 12-24-13

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Broken Palace  
By: Angela Jewell  
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Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . and yes, this fact still upsets me.

Warning: This story is mature/adult, so please respect its rating. Later on, it touches upon issues that may serve as a trigger to some, so if you're easily affected or offended, please steer clear of this story.

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Chapter 1  
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He watched her closely; the girl who would be his bride.

In the five years he hadn't seen her, she had changed. Gone was the snot-nosed, short-haired, angry little tomboy, the stubborn princess who would choose a good fight in the mud over acting like a lady any day. At eighteen now, she seemed to radiate self-confidence and refinement, just like Kasumi and Nabiki. And though she tried to hide it, she couldn't _quite_ disguise her lineage. Any fool in the marketplace could have picked her out as royalty if they took the trouble to look.

So no, he could see no trace of that young girl now . . . not in the woman standing before him.

And somehow that made everything easier.

"That's her, isn't it?" Ukyo asked from behind him, her voice resigned and laced with anger.

Ranma silently nodded—too intent to take his eyes off his target—too afraid to blink and find her gone.

But Ukyo didn't take kindly to being brushed aside . . . he could feel it in her aura, pulsing strongly behind him, emanating an ugly cocktail of loathing and jealousy. He didn't have to turn around to know what color it would be—green, pallid and unflattering—the color it always was whenever he glanced at another woman.

Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Ukyo leaned forward. "I thought she'd be prettier," she said.

Ranma ignored her comment with a skill he had long ago perfected. In the end, it didn't matter if she was blind, limbless, scatter-brained, or toothless, they'd be married no matter what—a fact Ukyo couldn't seem to grasp, nor Shampoo and Kodachi for that matter, no matter how many times he tried to spell it out for them.

And frankly, Ranma no longer cared enough to even bother.

"Konatsu," he ordered, his gaze remaining steadfast on his fiancée. "Take Ukyo back to camp and tell everyone I'll be there soon—and no," he added, cutting Ukyo off before she had a chance to protest, "I don't need backup. I can handle one stupid girl on my own."

Konatsu bowed respectfully, and Ukyo grumbled, but his two companions followed his orders and quickly lost themselves in the crowd.

Finally alone, Ranma allowed himself to watch her freely, trying to take everything in.

Though she was wearing a long cloak, a friendly wind and jostling crowd had knocked its hood back several times, allowing for brief, unhindered glimpses. Right away he could tell that her hair was longer now, much longer than Ranko's had been, with several strands falling loose from a bright yellow ribbon. And she had grown taller, her face slimmer, and her lips . . . well, Ranma didn't linger there long; instead his gaze was drawn to her eyes.

_They_ were the same . . . a shade of brown that changed with her mood. At the moment they were shining brightly as she talked with the street merchant, probably haggling over some silly bauble—though Ranma knew how those same eyes looked when she was feeling mischievous or angry, or even when she cried. Instinctively, his hands clenched at the memory and his muscles grew tense.

Then, suddenly, she smiled. . .

At that, Ranma felt his breath catch and his heart race.

It wasn't _just_ her smile that held him captivated . . . in truth, it was her aura. A powerful outer light that glowed brighter the moment she smiled. It was vibrant and gorgeous, full of passion and strength; a shade of red that occasionally showed hints of deep crimson.

He had never seen anything like it.

She was life, energy, and passion personified.

And that energy, that spark: he WANTED it.

But then without warning, the light surrounding her aura was inexplicably gone. Ranma stared hard, trying to will the colors back into being—unsure what had happened to make the image slip. He glanced around at the other people in the marketplace, checking to see if he was losing his touch—but colors and emotions—hatred, giddiness and greed, feelings common to the area, still assaulted him from every direction.

Yet when he looked back at Akane, for some reason there was nothing there.

In that moment, all the anger and resentment he'd harbored for five hellish years came flooding back—was she going to take this from him too?! Suddenly, Ranma wanted nothing more than to walk right up to her and wipe that grin right off her face–preferably, with her down on her knees, begging for forgiveness. Seeing her standing there, so _happy_, just reminded him of everything he'd lost, everything that was stolen from him.

He badly wanted to break her, just like she had broken him. . .

. . . but then, just as quickly as they had fled, the colors of her aura returned and Ranma could read her again. He heaved a heavy sigh of relief. When he finally confronted her, he _wanted_ to know what she was feeling, to know all the years he'd spent hating her hadn't been in vain.

And there she was, right in front of him, a stone's throw away . . . laughing, her cheeks red from the cold, as she grabbed a small pouch off her waist and paid the merchant for some small trinket. Ranma watched as she placed the item in her pouch, bowing politely before turning away; her guard completely down. She was so vulnerable to attack it was almost laughable—get her someplace secluded and she'd be putty in his hands.

But for now, against every instinct, he waited . . . not stupid enough to take her down with witnesses around. Happosai's orders had been clear: Make it to Sapporo without being discovered.

So continuing his vigilance, Ranma followed her with his eyes and noted the general direction she seemed to be headed, then frowned. He had known these roads by heart once, had memorized every nook and cranny, even knew how to get into the castle undetected—and that's exactly where Akane was headed.

Ranma cursed under his breath.

He had hoped to be able to watch her a while longer—to find the perfect time and place to make his move. Now if he didn't act fast, he'd have to break into the castle and snatch her from under the very noses of her father and his guards. And though the thought of sticking it to the Tendos so brazenly was tempting, it was also risky and foolish—especially when she was right in front of him; alone, unguarded.

He couldn't let this opportunity slip away. It was too good to pass up.

As he rose from his position behind the cabbage stall, a plan began to take form. It was a bit risky—if it went badly, every guard in the city would be on high alert, and their plans could be set back as a result. But if it was successful, if there was ANYTHING of the old Akane left in her, she'd definitely take the bait, and they could be headed for Sapporo by nightfall. In any case, it was better than simply letting her slip inside the palace gates. Without putting up a fight. Without trying.

No way in hell that was gonna happen again. With that spurring him on, Ranma made his move.

With a deftness born from a lifetime of martial arts, he weaved in and out of the crowd, closing what little distance remained till she was close enough to touch. Then purposely making his presence known, he made a show of grabbing the small pouch tied securely to her belt and ripped it away, veering sharply to the left as he took off running.

Behind him, her screams of "Stop!" rang clear and loud, yet she didn't call for help or sound the alarms, all he heard was the sound of footfalls as she immediately gave chase; the sound music to his ears.

Laughing lightly, Ranma relished the moment.

_He had her . . ._

* * *

Akane wanted to _kill_ something—or to be more precise, some_one_.

Honestly! Of all the days to get robbed. Couldn't a girl sneak out of her father's castle without running into unnecessary drama. . .?

The thief was straight ahead now, moving swiftly as he dodged people left and right with an ease that was actually quite impressive. Still, she wasn't about to get discouraged. He was fast, but she could be faster. Using the hand that wasn't holding her hood in place, she hiked up her cloak and pushed herself harder, adrenaline and a healthy sense of justice giving her a heady boost. This was her country, after all—she wouldn't be beaten by some common street hoodlum!

Hoping to shake her, he suddenly turned a sharp corner, making his way down one of the many side-alleys that led to the labyrinth—a series of twisting, conjoining passageways even the locals had trouble navigating. Akane followed without hesitation. She knew these alleys like the back of her hand, had explored them often enough as a child—but even with her cloak out of the way and a working knowledge of where she was, she still couldn't seem to make any headway.

No matter how hard she pushed herself, the distance between them remained the same. Yet Akane never once considered turning back or going for help; instead, she happily rose to the occasion. You couldn't get a thrilling workout like this inside the castle, and for once she'd have an exciting story to tell the maids! The heroic tale was already taking shape in her head—'Princess Akane's daring chase through the streets of Nerima: Notorious thief, caught and jailed'.

Okay, so maybe she'd just slap him on the head and tell him not to do it again . . . but she was allowed to embellish for the sake of suspense! Besides, she had no doubt she'd catch him eventually. . .

Her quarry's outfit didn't exactly scream discreet.

He was wearing black pants with a burgundy sash tied tightly around his waist, and a sleeveless red shirt that was ridiculously easy to pick out in a crowd. And then there was his hair. Even in Nerima, a man with a pigtail was still fairly rare to see, especially in this part of the country. Judging from the way he was dressed, she was almost certain he wasn't a professional thief—or if he was, he was a rather cocky, undisciplined one.

Still, Akane continued to follow the boy as he turned down one alleyway, then another and another, until even Akane found herself getting confused. Somehow, this wasn't making sense—a local would be focused on losing her and exiting the maze as soon as possible, and a traveler wouldn't know the routes this well, not by pure luck. Yet, somehow, this thief did. He was turning her around in circles, as though purposely trying to disorient her—and with a sinking feeling, she realized she'd been wrong all along. He knew this area. He wasn't trying to lose her at all—he was drawing her in, like a cat slowly ensnaring a mouse.

Akane immediately stopped running, her heart beating painfully in her chest.

She had to get out of here. . .

For the first time since the chase began, she let the thief out of her sight and quickly began to backtrack, conjuring up a map in her mind as she struggled to recall where the closest shop was. If she could get there and call for help, she could have every guard in the city hunting for this red-shirted jerk—and though a quick glance back assured her he wasn't following, she wasn't naïve enough to assume she was safe. There could be others.

With that thought in mind, Akane made her way out of the maze as best she could, a job made infinitely more difficult by frayed nerves and Kasumi's voice in her head, chiding her for leaving the castle in the first place. Eventually though, after what seemed like hours, she finally saw the front door of the butcher shop straight ahead and released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It was still a bit far removed from other storefronts, but was still a sight for sore eyes.

Rushing inside, she didn't bother with niceties. "Hello?" Akane yelled desperately, glancing around the very empty, very dark shop. It didn't look like anyone was there, but she stepped further into the room just to be sure. "Hello? Is anyone here? Please, I need some help!"

To her frustration, no one answered . . . but seconds later she heard the door slam shut behind her, and a voice that clearly wasn't the shopkeeper's spoke from the shadows, cold and arrogant.

"You may be cute, but you sure are dumb."

Akane turned fast, her hood falling with the motion—but it wasn't fast enough.

The man she'd been chasing leapt from the shadows and before she could take up a defensive position or get a clear view, he was behind her, a hand closing over her mouth, cutting off her cries for help. Then almost instantly, his finger was pressing a point on the base of her neck—and her vision began to blur as everything around her slowly faded to black.

She fought it, struggled to keep her eyes open, to stay conscious; but in the end, it was a losing battle.

Ranma caught her body as she went slack in his arms, and staring down at her, he smiled.

"Hey Akane. I'm home."

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THE END  
Chapter 1  
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A/N: Alright, here we are at long last! I apologize for the ridiculous wait—I was determined not to post another story until it was almost finished, that way people wouldn't have to wait several years between updates (I swear I don't do it on purpose—I'm just that slow, lol). As stated on my profile page, Broken Palace is almost complete (I only have around 3 or 4 chapters left to write), so I'll be posting one chapter  
every Friday to give me time to write/revise past and future chapters (Chapter 2 will be posted January 3rd, and so on). With your encouragement and pestering, I'm hoping I'll be able to get those remaining chapters churned out by the time we get to that final week!

And now, a big enormous shout-out to my AMAZING pre-readers—Roja-Cyd, Lichan44, and tomboy 26. Any errors remaining are completely my fault! I either revised it until it was unrecognizable, or ignored their sage advice for one stupid reason or another.

I hope to see you all again in Chapter 2! :)

(Also, be sure to check out the trailer I made for this fanfic - you can find the link on my profile page!)


	2. Chapter 2

C & C welcome, not to mention needed.  
Updated: 1-3-14

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Broken Palace  
By: Angela Jewell  
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Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . and yes, this fact still upsets me.

Special thanks to all my wonderful reviewers: Ranko twin, pursemonger, KaChan84, KohanaSaotome, Compucles, katlykat, kana, T-T, Broken Quill and Scattered Ink, ToraHimeSama, Kunosenpai, thwarth, and Lilo. Without all of you, I would have been huddled in a corner somewhere, wondering why I'd wasted the last five years of my life writing this stupid story. Thanks again! :)

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Chapter 2  
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Akane could never remember the dreams. They came in fragments—short and fast, and without any sort of context to place them in.

This one was no different.

_ She was walking through a dark corridor, her attention drawn to several flickering torches lining the walls._

_ Leaning against a wall, counting._

_ A door yawned open before her. But Akane didn't want to go in._

The sound of that same door slamming shut behind her finally jolted her awake, and the remnants of her dream faded fast, leaving nothing in its place but lost time and a confounding sense of dread and despair.

But Akane could never recall why.

Forcefully brought back to the real world, she slowly sat up, and tried to clear her memory of any lingering cobwebs. She had no idea where she was but bits and pieces of the mystery were gradually falling into place—she remembered slipping out of the palace, shopping in the marketplace, chasing a pickpocket through the labyrinth, and finally the butcher shop. . .

Akane groaned at that last one. Had she really been that stupid? She wasn't weak and defenseless like Kasumi and Nabiki! How could she let herself get captured without even putting up a fight?!

Climbing to her feet, she ignored the painful pounding in her head—it was the least she deserved—and began to look around, taking in the state of her makeshift prison. She was in a tent, with no furniture to speak of, not even a cot. Whoever had knocked her out and brought her here had just dumped her on the ground like a worthless bag of dirt. And glancing at her hands, something even more distressing occurred to her.

The jerk hadn't even bothered to tie her up!

Akane scowled, her pride feeling the sting. Not only did he leave her alone in some flimsy fabric tent—honestly! One good gust of wind could've easily knocked it over—he hadn't taken any precautions to ensure she couldn't escape.

Not much of a threat, was she? Well, she'd make him regret _that_ decision!

"Stupid, arrogant jerk," she muttered. "I'm going home."

She could see the tent flap straight ahead, though there didn't appear to be anything guarding it or holding it closed. This time though, Akane wouldn't allow herself to feel insulted—instead she congratulated herself for being captured by a bunch of brainless monkeys.

Marching up to the exit, she wasted no time in pushing it aside, not even caring that she could hear people talking and laughing nearby. If the guards had the mental capacity of their leader, they'd either be asleep on the job or too drunk to realize she'd escaped.

Putting one foot firmly outside, Akane prepared to take her first step towards freedom . . . and didn't make it two steps.

A pretty girl—with a ponytail and flowers in her hair—suddenly appeared before her, and shouting in surprise, Akane threw a quick punch out of reflex, which the newcomer easily avoided. "I apologize if I startled you," said the girl, with a small bow of apology, apparently unfazed by Akane's rude welcome. "My name is Konatsu. I'm to stand watch until my Master returns."

"Oh. Um, hello," Akane replied, unsure how to address a polite kidnapper. Clearly a punch to the face hadn't left an impression, though it didn't take Akane long to realize why. The girl before her was dressed as a kunoichi, and though she openly carried no weapon, Akane knew there were likely a dozen or more concealed on her body somewhere—ninjas were known for stealth. If it did come down to a fight, this girl couldn't be taken lightly.

At the moment though, she seemed harmless enough. Having said her piece, and seeing no immediate threat, Konatsu sat down gracefully in front of the exit and started looking around the room, her nose crinkled in distaste. "Not very tidy in here, is it," she observed, before turning to Akane and announcing vehemently, "I'm not cleaning! I was given no orders to clean!"

Akane laughed nervously. "Um, it's okay, you don't have to," she assured her quickly.

Konatsu seemed satisfied to hear that and nodded happily. Akane watched her carefully, looking for any weaknesses she could exploit, though judging from her little outburst just now, she didn't think it would be very difficult to find one. Giving her a friendly smile, Akane sat down right across from her, thinking maybe she could reason with her. A fight now would only draw attention, and she didn't want to hurt some poor girl who was only following orders.

"So, does your Master make you clean very often?" she asked, careful to keep the question unassuming and light.

"Oh no, not my current Master," Konatsu explained. "He rescued me from a cruel, dismal fate. But if he asked me to clean, I would do so with much gladness!"

Akane smiled. The way she talked about him made her wonder if maybe she had a little crush. Then chastising herself, Akane resolved to concentrate on the problem at hand. "Sounds like you really like your master," she said, "but you know, I honestly have no idea what I'm doing here. I'm just a traveler from Yokohama, so your master can't hope to get anything useful out of holding me here."

Konatsu stared at her curiously. "But you're Princess Akane Tendo," she replied, rather bluntly.

"I'm _who_?" she asked, perpetrating the performance of a lifetime. To really sell it, she began to laugh loudly and freely. "Really? You really think she looks like _me_? I mean, I'm flattered of course–to be mistaken for a beautiful princess, who wouldn't be?"

Konatsu sniffed and crossed her arms. "Miss Ukyo's prettier," she informed her.

"I-is that so?" Akane replied, her voice tight. "Well, I've never seen this princess myself, but I hear she's pretty reclusive. How do you people even know what she looks like?"

"Oh, my master. He recognized you immediately. He knows everything." Though in truth, living so far away, nobody was quite sure how he'd known that either.

But Akane frowned, not liking that bit of news one bit. She always prided herself on staying pretty much off the radar—she rarely ever made a public appearance with her family, and whenever she did go outside, she tended to disguise herself in order not to be recognized. Even in the palace, her father was careful to hire only honest and trustworthy workers—people who'd been with her since she was a child or had proven loyalty to her family in one way or another.

Yet, somehow, this always happened.

Why in the world did she have so many enemies?

"He did, huh?" Akane lamented. With a sigh, she stood up, having realized she wouldn't be able to talk her way out of this one after all. It was too bad though, aside from the fact that she had terrible taste in men, Konatsu actually seemed like a pretty nice girl. "Sorry," she said, taking up a defensive position, "but I'm not staying here. I'm not about to sit here quietly while you guys ransom me off."

"And who said anything about ransoming you?"

It wasn't Konatsu who spoke, but Akane recognized the voice immediately. Peering through the open tent flap was the thief she had chased through the labyrinth, the same boy who had attacked her in the butcher shop.

Suddenly her legs felt weak.

"R-Ranma. . .?" she breathed, not believing her eyes.

"Hey, Akane," he said with a mocking little wave. "Did you miss me. . .?"

* * *

When Ranma asked him to get lost, Konatsu was all too happy to oblige him; the moment his master had appeared, the air in the tiny tent had become quite stifling and he couldn't wait to get out. Yet when he stepped into the coolness outside, he was greeted by a restrictive air of a different sort—a bevy of curious, expectant onlookers awaited him, ready to hang on his every word.

Konatsu put his hands to his burning cheeks, flattered and happily overwhelmed by the attention.

Many questions were hurled his way, but he listened loyally to only one: "So, what's she like?" Ukyo questioned, her eyes burning with curiosity as she grabbed a hold of his arm, an unnecessary ploy to get his attention. "Is she spoiled and stuck up? Did she cry a lot? Please, please tell me she tried to seduce you. . ."

"Ranma hate girly-girl-types," Shampoo agreed, having approved this line of questioning.

"Come now, Shampoo. You speak as though there's a type of woman Saotome _wouldn't_ take an interest in," Mousse grumbled, before adding petulantly, "a false assumption, if ever there was one."

"Shut mouth, stupid-Mousse!"

Love-sick fool that he was, Mousse did as ordered.

Konatsu, however, ignored everyone who wasn't Miss Ukyo. "I fear I have failed you," he informed her gravely, his outcry full of sincerity. "I was unable to gleam much from my short acquaintance with the princess, only that she's a terrible liar, and seems to think herself beautiful—and sadly, no, she did not cry or try to seduce me. I believe she thought I was a woman."

"Rats! I knew he should've sent in Ryoga," Ukyo cursed.

"Oh, my Ryoga wouldn't have succeeded either," Akari informed her, hugging the directionally-challenged boy proudly. "He may be as handsome as a pig, but he's just as loyal. He never could've stomached such a distasteful task. Isn't that right, Ryoga?" She asked, hugging him tighter.

Ryoga reacted with giddy laughter, his normal response to physical affection.

Seeing that pathetic display, Ukyo guessed Akari was probably right—Ukyo herself would've had better luck cross-dressing and going in herself rather than entrusting such a delicate mission to the sorry lot Ranma had scrounged up. "What do you suppose they're talking about in there, anyway?" she asked, unable to hide her worry as she glanced at Shampoo, who alone could understand her plight.

Shampoo just shrugged, not willing to put into words what she expected would happen—Ranma wasn't known as a Lady-killer for nothing.

But Konatsu, remembering the familiar way his master had greeted the princess, wasn't so ambivalent. "Oh, lots I expect," he supplied, happy to be helpful. "From what I could gather, I believe they were already acquainted and once knew each other quite well." At that, every head turned towards the shy ninja, who hadn't yet realized the impact of what he'd just said.

But everyone else had.

Ranma was a very private person, to hear any mention of his past was rare. Ryoga especially came alive at the prospect, though judging by how manic Ranma had been lately, it's something he should have guessed on his own. Still, any chance to nettle Ranma was a chance he wouldn't soon pass up.

But for Ukyo, the news couldn't have been more disastrous. "He _knows_ her?" she cried, her heart hitting the floor. If it was some random, spoiled hussy, she thought she had a shot—but a childhood friend, or worse, a first love? Ukyo knew she didn't stand a chance. If she hadn't snagged his heart by now, what hope did she possibly have against a legitimate rival? Suddenly it all made sense though, why Ranma who had sworn off marriage was suddenly so keen to wed a perfect stranger, why he'd been so eager to tackle this strange mission, and why Lady Nodoka had been so quiet and distraught lately.

She might as well throw in the towel now and go join a nunnery.

Hoping for a sense of kinship, she looked to Shampoo who looked frustratingly unmoved by the whole thing. Which only depressed her all the more.

Konatsu, feeling awful for having upset his super-secret crush, followed her around as she wallowed in grief, begging to be forgiven. "I'm not worthy to walk in the same dust as you, Miss Ukyo, please forgive my thoughtless words. I don't think it was a friendly relationship at all—in truth, Master Ranma seemed very cold and distant, and only the princess seemed happy to see him. I'm sure they'll make a terrible union, I'd wager my freedom on it!"

Rather than cheer her up though, this news only managed to distress her further. Ukyo frowned and worried her lip, having come to a sudden realization. Girls had been chasing after Ranma for as long as she'd known him . . . and though he never pursued any of them beyond a quick fling, he rarely turned down their initial advances either. For him to be giving the princess the cold shoulder now, when he was normally so charming and aggressive—somehow, it felt different. Every warning bell in her head was going off. How could Shampoo not _sense_ it?!

Unless she had.

Unless Shampoo just didn't care.

Was it possible, Ukyo wondered, as a terrible possibility occurred to her—could Ranma's mother have approached Shampoo with the same offer? And if so, just how many other love-sick girls had she told?!

A light blow to the head rudely snapped her out of her frightful musings. "Are you going to stand there moping all day, or are you going to help us finish loading the ship?" Ryoga asked, as unsympathetic as ever, his arms full of supplies, food, and blankets. Akari and her giant sumo pig stood behind him, both carrying their own fair share of the weight.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Ukyo grabbed her grill and a small box of cooking utensils and stuck her tongue out at her shipmate. "I do not mope."

Akari gave her a sad smile. "Of course not, but there's no shame in it if you want to," she informed her. "Even pigs get sad, Ukyo."

Though she could appreciate the sentiment, Ukyo bravely shook her head. There was no reason to get depressed about the princess yet, she decided. A lot could happen in the four days it would take to reach Sapporo—and who knew, maybe she'd get lucky and Ranma would throw the princess overboard himself! "Thanks, Akari, but I'm okay," she assured her.

Throwing one final look of longing at the tent where Ranma and the princess were talking—_just_ talking, her mind insisted—Ukyo turned to her faithful sidekick and promptly placed her supplied in Konatsu's free hands. "Be a dear and throw this on the ship for me, would you?" she asked, adopting a smile. "Thanks, Sugar!"

Tears of joy streamed down his face. "Yes! Of course! Anything you say, Miss Ukyo!" Being free was pure bliss.

With her part of the work done, Ukyo brushed off her hands and began yelling orders for people to load the ship. Soon, they'd be heading for home.

* * *

Back in the tent, Ukyo would've found she had nothing to worry about.

After sending Konatsu away, Ranma's first order of business was to give Akane back her pouch. As he walked inside, he threw it to her without a word, watching in amusement as she clumsily tried to catch it, her fingers fumbling in the air, missing it completely. It landed on the cold hard ground and Akane's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she hurried to retrieve it.

Yup, still a klutz, Ranma noted with interest. Though his interest was purely scientific.

For years, he'd been running a catalogue in his mind, wondering how much Akane would have changed since they'd been apart. Would she still be a crybaby? Stubborn and headstrong? Violent and tomboyish? Had she ever learned to swim?

Ranma had changed. It didn't seem fair that he'd be the only one.

So far though, all the changes he saw in her were what he'd discerned from the marketplace. She sat placidly on the ground, docile and shy, not at all like the Akane he used to know—the tomboy who could never sit still for long. For obvious reasons she seemed incapable of meeting his eyes just yet, instead she carefully tied her pouch to her belt and then began smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her cloak, adjusted her hood—anything that would delay the inevitable.

Finally, when she realized he wasn't going to speak first, she looked up at him—slowly, hesitantly. "Ranma," she began, shaking her head. "I—I still can't believe it's you."

He stared at her and didn't move a muscle. "Yeah. It's me."

Silence reigned, the sound deafening.

Akane tried to smile. "So. Um, how are you?"

A sharp laugh escaped him before he could stop it. "How am I?" he repeated incredulously, his tone rising. "Gee, I'm swell, Akane. And you?"

Oh, she could hear the sarcasm all right, but if anyone had the right to be angry just now it was _her_. Still, she'd waited five years for this reunion, there was no way she was going to let the dummy ruin it in the first five minutes. "I'm fine, thanks," she replied, purposely schooling her expression and tempering her tone; as though silently daring him to twist her words around this time.

Ranma didn't disappoint.

"Fine, huh?" he asked, laying it on extra thick. "Wake up in strange places a lot, do you? That normal for you or something?"

Akane's jaw clenched. "Oh, all the time," she countered, proving she was no slouch in the sarcasm department either. "Why, just this morning, I woke up and said to myself, 'You know what sounds fun, Akane? Getting robbed and attacked by my dear friend, Ranma!'"

"'That a fact?"

"Sure is. I'm so happy we could meet under these circumstances, and after such a friendly welcoming too!"

"Yeah, sorry," he jeered, crossing his arms against his chest. "Guess I forgot to bring the red carpet."

"What is WITH you?" she demanded at last as she climbed to her feet, sick of being talked down to with such vitriol. "You haven't talked to me in five YEARS, Ranma, and now you show up unannounced, out of the blue—did it ever occur to you to just ASK if you wanted to meet me? Honestly—knocking me out and DRAGGING me here—THAT sounded like a good idea?"

"A GOOD idea would've been to gag you too!" he shot back.

"Just go ahead and TRY it Ranma!"

Rather than take her up on that offer, he watched as she visibly fumed in front of him, her eyes flashing, cheeks flushed . . . damn, THIS was the Akane he knew, the Akane he recognized. The girl who could go from sweet and kind to angry hellion in ten seconds flat. She was so keyed up that her aura was shining for him without even having to search for it—yet, what he saw there only stole his breath and stopped him in his tracks.

She was . . . happy?

Even as she threatened him and railed like a banshee, underneath it all, she was excited to see him, relieved even—auras didn't lie. Her reaction to him was genuine.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Akane asked him, unnerved by how quiet he'd suddenly become, how pale his face looked. Then a scary thought occurred to her, and just as quickly she turned twice as pale. "Ranma, you—you're not, not _sick_ or something, are you? Is—is that why you came here looking for me. . .?"

There—he could see bluish-gray now, the color for worry. Where the hell was the guilt? The fear, resentment, and the shame—he needed something incriminating, something to assure him he hadn't wasted the last five years of his life hating her for no goddamn reason! Growing desperate now, he searched her aura again, like a drowning man grappling for a life line, figuring maybe it was buried, or just really well hidden—but as he searched through the intricate web of colors, growing more and more frantic by the second, to his horror and frustration they began to blink out and fade until they'd disappeared completely . . . mimicking exactly what had happened back at the marketplace.

Ranma froze, suddenly at a loss. He hadn't realized how much he'd depended on this ability, how much he'd counted on it showing him exactly what he _needed_ to see. In every scenario he'd come up with, in every possible way he'd imagined this reunion going—this never occurred to him. After seeing him again, overcome with remorse, she was supposed to fall on her knees, cry, confess, apologize—

—Instead, all he got were her eyes, large and wide, staring at him, _afraid_ for him.

In that moment, five years of fury, of careful planning, of memorized speeches and reckless living, seemed to amount to shit. He was a naive thirteen year old brat again who didn't know squat about nothing.

"Ranma. . ." Akane repeated, and this time put her hand on his arm out of concern. Ranma wrenched it away, his mind racing.

Suddenly the urge to get out, to regroup, to _think _was overpowering. He really couldn't do this right now. "I—I'll be right back," he said, and hated the pathetic way his voice almost cracked on the words. "Don't be stupid—just, just stay here and you won't get hurt."

Ignoring her protests and questions, Ranma quickly pushed the tent flap out of the way and stepped outside, blocking her so she couldn't push past as he quickly scanned the area for one of his men. Thankfully Ryoga was the first to walk by, carrying a box leaden with pots and pans, trailed closely by Akari and Katsunishiki—insurance that he wouldn't wander off. Ranma was about to temporarily put them out of work. As the other boy passed, Ranma snagged him by the shirt, and hissed, "Stay here and watch her. Don't let her out of your sight. Got it?"

Ryoga slowly nodded, not used to seeing his captain so ruffled. "You alright?" he asked, more out of curiosity than actual concern.

"Just . . . just keep her the hell away from me Ryoga."

Having said his part, Ranma made his way back to the ship, anxious to set sail and get out of this fucking town as soon as possible. It wasn't safe to linger any longer—any minute now they should be realizing Akane was missing. And though his ship had become somewhat of a sanctuary for him in years past, when he was finally onboard, the ship swaying gently beneath him, he didn't feel any better. His insides felt twisted. And though there was no chill in the air, he couldn't seem to stop shaking.

What the hell had she done to him?

And more importantly, how did he make it stop?

- - - - - - -  
THE END  
Chapter 2  
- - - - - - -

A/N: Sorry if this chapter was riddled with errors, my original version was so terrible it required a complete rewrite, and by the time I finished, sending it to my pre-readers would've made me miss my deadline. Hopefully it's still readable regardless. :)


	3. Chapter 3

C & C welcome, not to mention needed.  
Updated: 1-8-14

- - - - - - - - - - -  
Broken Palace  
By: Angela Jewell  
- - - - - - - - - - -

Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . and yes, this fact still upsets me.

Special thanks to all my wonderful reviewers: pursemonger, Ranko twin, TL, KohanaSaotome, KaChan84, katlykat, Dandy Mandy, my good friends tomboy 26 and Luna12, Compucles, kana, coughdrop 101, Kunosenpai, ToraHimeSama, Darksouled Saiyanphoenix, AliceTheBookGirl, f-zelda, Firestorm2004, miikodesu, linkgold64, and thwarth. Every time I see a new email alert for a review, it's like my energy is fully restored and I power up! :)

- - - - - - -  
Chapter 3  
- - - - - - -

Ryoga leaned casually against the tent flap, still holding his box of supplies, amused and pleased beyond words. Boy, she was a spit-fire—he had barely entered the tent when she'd rushed straight at him, indignant as all hell, eyes blazing as she demanded to speak to Ranma.

Immediately he could see why Ukyo was so worried, why Ranma had been guarding her existence so greedily.

She was beautiful. Long dark hair, full lips, expressive eyes, a pretty face.

Of course, Ryoga was used to seeing beautiful women. Shampoo and Ukyo definitely weren't hard to look at, and his Akari put even those two to shame . . . but this girl looked as though she'd broken her own fair share of hearts, maybe as many as Ranma. And if _Ranma's_ heart had been broken along the way—well then, was it any wonder Ryoga felt so instantly drawn to her? Any girl who managed to get the best of Ranma was utterly gorgeous and could do no wrong in his book.

If it wasn't for Akari, he would've fallen, and fallen hard.

He laughed quietly to himself, in his own special heaven.

That moron Ranma didn't stand a chance.

While he was ruminating, the princess took several steps closer, appearing to have calmed herself down with noticeable effort. The longer Ryoga observed her though, the more impressed he became. There was nothing weak or passive about this princess—right here, right now, she was just another angry female, someone who was just as likely to beat the answers out of him if asking sweetly proved too useless.

And from what he could tell, that possibility wasn't too far off.

When she spoke again, her words were measured and slow, but held just as much warmth as a fabled Amazon death kiss: "I demand to speak to Ranma. NOW."

Ryoga, temporarily taken back by the force of her tone, smiled ruefully. "Sorry," he replied, shaking his head, "but he's busy with the ship. If there's anything _I_ can do, I'll—"

"—Ship?" Akane asked, cutting him off. She watched him warily, all that bottled anger seeming to drain right away; confusion ready and eager to take its place. "Are you guys leaving already? Is that where Ranma is? On this ship of yours?"

"Uh," Ryoga stared at her, uncertain what to say. He hadn't missed the way she'd purposely excluded herself in the arrangement—as though they were leaving her behind. She _did_ know she was their hostage, right? "You mean, Ranma hasn't told you anything. . .?"

She frowned at the question, looking troubled and upset, the quietest he'd seen her since entering the tent. "No," she said at last, speaking so softly he could barely hear her. "No, he hasn't told me a thing."

That was kind of odd, Ryoga thought, but didn't say. Though he knew there was history between the two of them—and apparently not good history, at that—Ranma wasn't the type to keep quiet for long. He was cocky and brash, and prided himself on it. If anything, Ryoga had expected the princess to either be driven to tears, begging for her freedom, or in the midst of picking out which wedding dress to wear.

Instead, he was faced with an angry prisoner demanding to see her captor, while the captor hid away on his ship.

Something big must have happened between the two of them . . . and Ryoga, now more than ever, was determined to find out what it could be. Before he could take a real crack at the mystery, however, the princess had grabbed a hold of his sleeve and pulled on it sharply, demanding his attention.

"Please," she said, her hand on his arm, her eyes soulfully pleading with his, "please," she repeated, almost desperately now, "I _**need**_ to see him."

Oh. Something in her voice got to him then—Ryoga couldn't explain it, and he didn't understand why it should. But she looked so adorable standing there, so helpless and desperate and sweet. She was a completely different person—and for some reason, the good guy in him responded to that part of her with an intensity that frightened him.

Swallowing nervously, he cursed his kind, fragile heart. It wouldn't be the first time Ryoga disregarded a direct order, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "Ranma doesn't want to see you," he explained, before adding cheerfully, loudly, "but Ranma's an idiot! I'll take you to him right now if you want!"

"Really? You will?" she asked, her face lighting up like he'd just offered her the moon. "I can see him on this ship? You promise?"

"Y-yeah," he managed, distracted by how _shiny_ and happy her eyes looked as they stared at him, and before long he felt himself sinking into those dark depths as a goofy grin slid across his face—and then, to complete the transformation from strapping young man to puddle of goo, she smiled at him. The most beautiful, bright smile Ryoga had ever seen and his heart started doing little flips and cartwheels, and all thoughts of sweet, loving Akari vanished from his mind entirely.

But then, much too soon for his liking, Akane's smile was gone. "Oh, but is it very far away?" she asked him, a look of worry on her face.

"No, no!" Ryoga assured her, desperate to see her smile for him again. "It's very close—just up the pathway—by the lake, behind a waterfall." To his utter relief and delight, a smile returned to her face at last.

"Can we go now?" she asked, practically glowing with excitement as she grabbed his arm even tighter, ready to pull him there if necessary.

Suddenly, his arm where she gripped it felt like it was on fire. He could practically _feel_ her tiny hand clinging to his arm through the fabric of his shirt—and his eyes were glued to that spot, unwavering. "S—sure," he said, nodding quickly, eager to please. Not in a million years had he expected her to be so—so _cooperative_.

"Ready. . .?" he asked her.

The princess nodded, still smiling.

Grinning, Ryoga swept the tent flap aside with a dramatic flourish, temporarily forgetting he had no idea how to even get back to the ship on his own. But that wasn't going to stop him! "After you," he said, bowing in gentlemanly fashion. The princess giggled cutely. . .

. . .And _that_ was when she kicked him in the groin and ran.

* * *

Akane darted right past the pain-ridden boy currently writhing on the floor, the pots and pans he'd carried with him now lying scattered across the ground. Sure, he had seemed nice enough—sweet even—but he couldn't have been _**that**_ nice if he was willingly taking part in a kidnapping plot! Not to mention the way he'd been prepared to disobey Ranma's orders without a second thought!

A boy like that _definitely_ couldn't be trusted.

Besides, Akane had no idea what Ranma had planned for her, but either way, she had absolutely no intention of walking onto that ship as some pathetic, helpless prisoner. No—she'd find Ranma _her_ way, and then—

—then what, she wondered, as a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

What could she _possibly_ say to him that could make up for everything he'd been through—everything his _family_ had been through? If he never even bothered to return a single letter, why would he listen to her now, two years later, when he was still so hurt and so angry with her? Was it even worth trying?

Akane knew that it was.

Whenever she even considered giving up and going home, she would remember how pale Ranma's face had looked back in the tent and she couldn't help but worry all over again—in the very least, she had to make sure he was alright.

And after that, just once, she wanted to look him in the eye and apologize about everything that had happened . . . about Ranko, about not being there to say goodbye, about liking him on her own. Clearly explaining everything in her letters hadn't gone over as well as she had hoped. But now he was back. Somehow she'd make things right.

But first, she had to find him.

In no time at all, Akane made it out of camp and into the protective cover of the surrounding forest, stopping only briefly to catch her breath as the rush of adrenaline finally thinned out. Luckily she hadn't been seen. Allowing her to escape must not be the sort of thing Ranma's stooges wanted to broadcast—everyone she had spotted were too busy and distracted to notice her weaving about the tents, hurried and stressed as they tried to finish packing before the sun sank and darkness set in.

Now reasonably safe, Akane allowed herself a small measure of smugness. Clearly she was right—she didn't need some muscle-bound bodyguards to feel safe despite what her overprotective father seemed to think. She could take care of herself!

Though in all fairness, it probably helped that Ranma wasn't very good at any of this dark, shady business . . . who kept their captive in an area they were familiar with anyway? Akane knew these woods. She knew these trees, had come here often enough whenever she needed a good cry, or just to get away from the stifling atmosphere of the castle. In the very least Ranma should have had her holed up somewhere new, like on his ship, behind a locked door, guarded by people who were actually competent.

Instead, Akane was heading straight for the waterfall.

She knew right where that was.

Even though it was a closely guarded military secret, Ranma's father had built and designed it over a decade ago—so of course Ranma had taken her and Ranko there often to play when they were kids, much to his father's annoyance. But once Uncle Genma was exiled, taking most of his loyal guard with him, the hollowed out dock had pretty much gone into disuse, leaving only the scenic waterfall to guard its grand secret.

The fact that Ranma was the first to use it since its conception, somehow seemed fitting. No one would think to look for her there—they had no reason to suspect the Saotomes would ever return, and by the time that option even occurred to them, by the time they even realized Akane was missing, Ranma and his ship would already be gone.

He had done that much right, at least.

And here Akane was, heading straight for the lion's den. Even so, she went over her strategy once again, silently praying that doing the unexpected would prove to be her greatest ally—no one would be expecting her to head _towards_ the danger.

But first Akane had to do a little snooping of her own. Ranma had to know by now she no longer had any real power—if he wanted his title or lands back, he'd have to go through her father the king, or her young nephew, Prince Akihiro, the male heir. And though her father could be swayed with her as ransom, his court certainly would not—and Ranma would know this. Not to mention, if it really was his lands he was after, why they were packing up and preparing to leave before trying to negotiate? None of it made any sense—why were they even here?

And though another possibility occurred to her, Akane dismissed it quickly, embarrassed for even thinking it. No way he'd be jealous of _Kuno_. . .

No, she really couldn't make heads or tails of it. And the longer Akane deliberated, the more questions she had instead of answers.

In the end, she supposed it didn't really matter—she'd be talking to Ranma soon enough anyway and then he could explain everything himself. Maybe they'd even manage to clear the air between them and make things right again.

Well, as right as things had ever been between them, she thought with a nostalgic little smile.

Not wasting any more time, Akane picked up her pace, noting how the sun was finally starting to set, its fleeting rays laying down a path across the forest's floor before her. To Akane, it was warm, open, and inviting . . . especially since at the end of it lay Ranma.

* * *

Ukyo cursed under her breath, silently belittling the jackass she was embarrassed to call a partner.

Stupid, _stupid_, Ryoga!

She could see the princess straight ahead, wandering around by herself, free as can be. She had headed straight for the forest just like Ryoga had said she would, though why she was heading for the waterfall and their ship, Ukyo couldn't even begin to imagine.

Did she enjoy playing prisoner that much?

Ukyo narrowed her eyes, disliking the girl more and more. Now it seemed she was actively _trying_ to piss her off! If the stupid girl had just headed back to the castle Ukyo could have feigned ignorance and washed her hands of her then and there. Instead, here she was, preparing to deliver the little twit right back into Ranchan's waiting arms.

Oh, she'd make Ryoga pay for this!

Once she cleaned up that moron's mess, she was going to enjoy pounding him into unconsciousness.

Luckily, the princess didn't realize she was being followed. And even if she did, it wouldn't make much of a difference—Ran-chan had insisted they stake out the area for a solid week, memorizing every tree's position, every hole, every niche, every bush. She couldn't possibly know these woods as well as they did. Ranchan had made sure they'd have the upper-hand, and Ukyo intended to keep it that way.

So moving silently through the underbrush, she followed her, moving at her own sedate pace, careful to keep the right amount of distance between them before making her move. Only forty feet now, but she remained cautious. The last thing she needed was to get sloppy and lose her advantage.

Hiding within the shadows of the trees, Ukyo worked on gradually closing the distance between them, her hand hovering over the handle of her giant battle spatula, ready to draw it at a moment's notice.

_Thirty feet._

_Twenty feet._

_Twelve feet._

She grabbed it then—like a sword being stealthily drawn from its sheath, years of practice made the motion almost soundless.

_Eight feet._

_Six._

Good night, princess . . . and good riddance.

The hard flat surface of her battle weapon cut through the air, straight at her clueless opponent's head.

Only, her target's head was no longer there.

Ukyo stopped in surprise, confused to see the princess suddenly standing off to her side, hands up before her in a defensive position, ready and waiting for a fight. Ukyo could do nothing but stare back at first, her jaw hitting the floor.

The absolutely last thing she expected was for some goodie-goodie princess to know martial arts.

Even now, the other girl was calmly eyeing her battle spatula, her eyebrow raised in interest. "I was wondering when you'd attack," she said, not relaxing her position in the slightest, "but I never guessed it would be with such a strange weapon. Isn't that heavy?"

Coughing uncomfortably, Ukyo tried to pull herself together. "Not really," she replied, figuring the quickest way to regain control was to answer the dumb question. "Still hurts like heck though, so you'll probably want to save yourself a world of hurt and just come back with me now while I'm being nice."

Even though she said that, she really, really hoped her quarry resisted. Nothing would make her happier than presenting her to her captain, bloody and bruised, as well as unconscious.

The princess frowned and shook her head, granting a grateful Ukyo her wish. "No thanks, I'd have to be a fool to walk blindly onto that ship not knowing what you have planned for me."

"—Prisoner-girl no have choice."

The voice seemed to come from all around them, and suddenly Shampoo was dropping down from the trees, attacking before Akane could even try and defend herself. A single Chui cut through the air, knocking her in the head and to the ground, where she lay on the forest floor, out cold.

"Hey! I wanted to do that!" Ukyo protested as Shampoo stood proudly over their fallen captive.

"Shampoo sorry, chance too too good pass up. Ukyo beat princess next time, is okay?"

"Oh alright," Ukyo grumbled as she put her spatula back in its holster.

Moments like these were a terrific reminder of why her and Shampoo got along as well as they did, despite their mutual interest in a certain pigtailed boy. Since not one of them could boast an outright claim over the other—at least not yet, she thought, remembering Lady Nodoka's proposal—a sense of camaraderie and shared misery had become something of a norm between the two of them. And now, with a true rival among them, tensions had never been lower.

Ukyo just hoped it stayed that way.

"Come on, let's get back to the ship," she said as she leaned down to pick up their not-so-precious cargo and flung her unceremoniously over her shoulder—happy to note she wasn't exactly light—as she followed Shampoo back to the ship. There was a small spring in her step this time as she walked, making an otherwise unbearable trip a tad more satisfying.

She hoped Shampoo was right—she wanted another chance to face off against the princess. Never before had Ukyo felt such a strong desire to pound something that _wasn't_ okonomiyaki.

. . .Little did she know she'd soon get that chance.

- - - - - - -  
THE END  
Chapter 3  
- - - - - - -

A/N: Don't worry, Ranma will be back next chapter. And a special thanks to Luna12 for proofreading this for me! :)


	4. Chapter 4

C & C welcome, not to mention needed.  
Updated: 1-17-14

- - - - - - - - - - -  
Broken Palace  
By: Angela Jewell  
- - - - - - - - - - -

Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . and yes, this fact still upsets me.

Special thanks to all my wonderful reviewers: Compucles, miikodesu, pursemonger, ToraHimeSama, AliceTheBookGirl, tomboy 26, Darksouled Saiyanphoenix, Luna12, katlykat, Ranko twin, mia, TL, linkgold64, KaChan84, kana, ilkane, J Luc Pitard, MEI-CHAN, Tii-chan, and KohanaSaotome. Every time I see a new email alert for a review, it's like my energy's restored and I power up! :)

- - - - - - -  
Chapter 4  
- - - - - - -

For the second time that day, Akane awoke on the floor—disoriented, angry, and in considerable pain. Her head _hurt_, and her mind was a jumbled mess.

Images, confusing and unfamiliar, were dancing around in her head—_A body lying motionless on the floor, a bloody sword, and a scream—_they were short, fast, and frightening—and this time Akane could remember them, every terrible detail.

Sitting up slowly, she put a hand to her throbbing skull, mentally willing the images away. She needed to clear her mind, to concentrate and refocus. She turned her attention to her newest prison, grateful for the distraction.

It didn't take her long to realize she was in a room. Unlike the tiny fabric tent, this one was scarcely furnished, with a narrow bed, a table, and a small oval window—though for some reason Akane was finding it progressively harder to focus on anything for long. She didn't know if it really _was_ the room or simply a side effect of that last blow to the head, but it felt like everything was swaying beneath her.

Climbing unsteadily to her feet, Akane walked over to the window and soon discovered why.

She was on the ship.

The ocean stretched out before her, wide and immense, water from the waves splashing against the little oval window from outside. There was no sign of land, nothing to indicate they were still docked in the cavern or behind the cascading waterfall. They were on the open sea now, moving at a steady pace far away from Nerima . . . heading who knew where.

Closing her eyes, Akane concentrated fully on her breathing.

She should be happy, she tried to tell herself—she _had_ been heading for the ship, after all. And though it may not be the exact way she'd pictured embarking, at least the end result was the same. Plus, Ranma was trapped here too. He couldn't very well run away from her now, not unless he planned to jump overboard in order to avoid her.

Still . . . trapped. Akane didn't like that feeling one bit.

Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in, like she was some animal being locked away in a cage. Dismay, anger, fear—she couldn't decide which she felt strongest, but they were all there, crowding in on her from every direction.

Now more than ever, she needed to get out of here and talk to Ranma.

Intent on doing just that, Akane headed for the door on the other side of the room, half expecting, ridiculously, to find it unlocked. To her surprise and frustration it wasn't; unbidden, her earlier criticisms came back to haunt her.

Apparently Ranma was learning.

Annoyed that he chose now, of all times, to start being competent, Akane kicked the door with her foot, letting off some steam. Honestly! Was this even necessary? They were on the open sea, where exactly did they expect her to run off to?

But more importantly, did Ranma want to avoid her that much?

She frowned at that thought, her confidence beginning to waver.

With an uncertain future before her, Akane was finally starting to realize just how serious her situation was. What if they sold her off as a slave to a foreign country? Royals certainly didn't go cheap! And if Ranma had never forgiven her, had set his mind to be rid of her, could she really change his decision? Before, she would've said yes, absolutely. But at the moment she wasn't so sure.

Those visions from earlier bothered her, and she couldn't get them out of her mind.

What if she was finally starting to remember something. . .?

"Please no," she said quickly, out loud, and started slapping her cheeks with her palms, as though trying to force such distasteful thoughts away. If those were flashes of memory, she was better off forgetting forever.

Instead, she turned her attention to her current predicament. Everything had been happening so fast, so unexpectedly, she felt like she'd awakened from a tailspin. Getting caught once was bad enough—but getting caught twice, and right after managing to escape—that was unacceptable. Her pride as a martial artist would never let her live it down. Not to mention Miss Hinako would definitely drain her for allowing herself to be taken down so easily.

That is, if she even survived long enough for her sensei to get the chance.

As it stood now, Akane had no delusions about her position. This was looking less and less like a ransom issue and more like an abduction case; which meant they either wanted something from her, were seeking revenge, or were trying to start a war. If Ranma was simply following orders, doing a job and nothing else, then she was in big trouble. But if he was in charge, if this was about something else entirely, she thought she might be able to reason with him. She'd have to—she couldn't exactly _swim_ back to Nerima.

In any case, one thing was clear—she needed to talk to Ranma, and soon. Until then, her hands were tied. In a rare moment of helplessness, Akane leaned her head against the door, trying hard not to give into despair.

How in the world was she going to get out of this one. . .?

* * *

Ranma stood before Ryoga, visibly fuming.

For the most part, his subordinate was doing an excellent job of looking guilty and ashamed all on his own. He couldn't _quite_ meet his captain's gaze and every now and then he'd open his mouth to say something, only to close it uselessly, and shake his head in silent condemnation.

But Ranma knew everything he was feeling.

Shame. Guilt. Disgust. Humiliation.

The multitude of colors rolled off his body and seemed to engulf him.

Ryoga had always been ridiculously easy to read, and his colorful range of emotions were some of the first Ranma ever learned to interpret. But even so, he didn't allow himself to feel an ounce of pity. Even if the moron was feeling guilty over his mistake, Ranma still needed answers, and waiting for Ryoga could mean waiting all day.

"So," he began, trying to keep his voice neutral, to give the moron the benefit of the doubt. "Which part of 'watch her' didn't you understand exactly?"

Ryoga's head immediately shot up, and he looked animated for just a second. "I watched her!" he insisted, blushing furiously as he thought, _boy_, _had he watched her._ . .

"Yeah, a little too well," Ukyo scoffed, having already heard the whole story. "I can't believe you'd fall for the oldest trick in the book, Ryoga. What are you, an amateur?"

Too embarrassed to even contradict her, Ryoga simply hung his head, having realized the less he said the better. "Anyway, sorry," he said, glancing at Ranma. "I messed up. Go on and hit me if you want."

Ranma was tempted, but only because the moron hadn't _told_ him anything yet. "Look," he sighed, realizing he'd been going about this all wrong. "All I wanna know is how some dumb girl got through your defenses, Ryoga—that's _it_. Did she have a weapon? Did she use magic? Shiatsu? Did someone come and help her?"

Ryoga and Ukyo both stared at him like he'd said something crazy. Aside from Ranma's little issue, nobody used magic anymore, not since the practice was banned . . . so all these wild theories came off as a bit outrageous; especially in light of the simple truth.

But Ranma continued to stare at them expectantly, growing impatient. "What?" he deadpanned, unnerved by the creeped out way they were looking at him; it's not like he could tell them he was checking up on something, that it had to do with his past, so instead he shot back defensively, "Well what other reason could there be? It's not like Akane's a martial artist like you guys."

Again, that look.

"NOW what?" he groused.

"Ran-chan . . . you _do_ know she practices the art, right?" Ukyo asked, sore on that particular topic herself.

Ranma simply stared at her, positive he'd heard wrong. Then he laughed. "Come on, Ukyo. Sure, she may be a huge tomboy and can hit like a pile driver, but she's no fighter. She's not _trained_. Any of you should be able to take her easy. Especially an idiot like Ryoga."

"Not trained?" Ukyo repeated incredulously, as Ryoga protested being labelled an idiot, "Ranma, she _sensed_ me coming, and was very willing to trade blows even before Shampoo showed up. Trust me, Sugar. She knows martial arts."

Ryoga quickly nodded in agreement; not because he knew she was telling the truth, but because misconstruing the blame might get him off the hook faster. And it looked like Ranma might even be buying it! He was biting his lip, looking thoughtful.

Akane, a martial artist? That was the first Ranma had ever heard of it . . . not that she hadn't wanted to learn when they were younger, but her father had always forbidden it, even made Ranma and Ranko promise not to teach her a thing. And though stubborn and headstrong, Akane had always been dutiful, especially after losing her mother.

Was it possible? Had she been learning martial arts all this time?

Ranma felt something warm settling in his chest at that, but then forcefully pushed it away.

Feeling courageous due to Ukyo's intervention, Ryoga pointed a finger accusingly at his captain, finally going on the offensive. "This is partly your fault anyhow, Ranma!" he announced, righteous fury burning in his big brown eyes. "I never would have let my guard down if you had properly warned me about her!"

"_Warned_ you?" Ranma asked in disbelief. "Warned you about _what_?! I didn't even know, stupid!"

"No, no, not that!" Ryoga informed him, bravery turning him rash and inept. "The _other_ thing!"

Ranma narrowed his eyes, noting the way the other boy's face had suddenly gone red. "And what 'other thing' would that be?" he asked, a clear hint of malice in his tone. Ukyo, recognizing it immediately, wisely took a step back.

But Ryoga missed the way his captain's jaw clenched, the way his fists had begun to tighten. "Because," he explained, blushing so fiercely now his face was deep scarlet. "She's really, _really_ pretty."

This time, Ranma _did_ hit him, and he would have kept on hitting him if Ukyo hadn't quickly thrown herself between the two of them, using herself as a human shield. "Stop it, you morons!" she shouted, forcefully pushing Ryoga out of the line of fire. Her captain dutifully backed up several steps but remained in an attack position, ready and willing to hit Ryoga again if he said anything equally as stupid. True or not.

"You mean to tell me," Ranma said, breathing hard, "she got away from you because she _batted her eyes_, and you swooned like a goddamn idiot?!"

"Uh . . . no?" Ryoga choked out, choosing to stay safely behind Ukyo this time. If this turned into another brawl, he'd run the risk of getting thrown off the ship for mutiny against his captain; Ranma was just mad enough to play that card.

Ukyo, determined to cut the tension, came to the big lug's defense. "It's partly your fault, anyhow, Ran-chan," she informed him. "You shouldn't have left such an important mission to a numbskull like Ryoga in the first place."

"Hey!" the aforementioned-numbskull protested.

"From now on, why not leave me in charge of the princess?" she asked, and to underscore her commitment, Ukyo eagerly cracked her knuckles. "You _know_ I won't let her anywhere near you, and this way you won't have to worry about the little harpy seducing Ryoga again! Or any other guy for that matter."

"She wasn't seducing me," Ryoga grumbled, petulant.

Ranma laughed without humor—the thought of Akane seducing anyone had him seeing red. If Ryoga had gone along with it, he definitely would've killed him. "Just you wait, Ryoga," he said, attacking in a way he knew would leave its mark, "I'm sure _**Akari**_ would love to hear about this. Hey, Ukyo . . . think you can go grab her for me?"

A look of horror crossed Ryoga's face at that, and he threw himself to the ground, grabbing Ranma's leg in a desperate plea for mercy. "Oh no, please! She'll be so upset with me—Ranma-you-jerk—you KNOW we haven't been going out long, and I'll NEVER forgive you if she breaks up with me!"

Ranma's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "And how's that MY problem?" he pressed, unmoved by Ryoga's show of debasement. When it came to his love-life, and only his love-life, the moron's brain went right out the window.

"It was just a moment of weakness, Ranma," Ryoga stubbornly insisted. "I'll never go near the princess again, I swear!"

"Fine, jeez. Just let go of my leg already."

"Not until you swear!" Ryoga said, his grip on his leg actually tightening. For Akari, he could even allow Ranma to use his head as a stool! "Swear on your honor, Ranma! Swear that you'll never tell Akari!"

"Fine, I swear. Now go away."

"And the princess?" Ukyo asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Ranma waved his hand in dismissal. "Sure. Anyone's better than this idiot," he said, before adding ominously, "but we can't afford another screw up, got it, Ukyo? I don't want to see her out of that room until _I_ say so. Understood?"

Ukyo nodded, all smiles. "Right! Leave it me, Ran-chan. I'll go check on her now!" Turning swiftly, she headed straight for the door, but paused briefly, glancing back at Ranma. "That is, if it's safe," she added, nodding in Ryoga's direction, fearing the fool would go and get himself into trouble again.

Ranma, sensing her worry, waved her concern aside. "I promise not to kill him," he assured her, and Ukyo smiled happily as she once again turned to head towards the Princess's prison.

With one problem out of the way, Ranma now turned to regard the other. "Don't screw up again, Ryoga," he warned him, his voice like ice. "If you do, I won't be so forgiving next time. . ." Ryoga nodded, looking sufficiently subdued and repentant. His shoulders had begun to slump, and his level of guilt was gradually beginning to return.

Satisfied his scolding had made it through even Ryoga's thick skull and that the dumb sap wouldn't be going near Akane anytime soon, Ranma nodded, pleased with himself—and prepared to walk away.

Something stopped him in his tracks.

He could feel it—the heat from Ryoga's aura swimming in the air; so intense, it was stifling. Slowly, he turned back around, shocked to see his friend standing in place, head bowed as waves of dark depression rolled off his body and into the surrounding air.

Failure. Regret. Futility. Anguish.

Ranma's smile quickly disappeared.

Ryoga may be an idiot, but he was a _dangerous_ idiot. The last thing he needed was for his depression to get out of control and for a shi shi hokodan to blast a hole into his very sinkable ship.

_Stupid Ryoga. Why the hell had he brought him along anyway?_

Walking over to him, Ranma slapped him across the head, knowing that was the quickest way to get his attention. "Hey. Akari was looking for you earlier. Not that you care, or anything—what with your little crush on my future _wife_—but, last I heard, she was downstairs in the kitchen—" he left the words deliberately hanging, relieved when he saw his friend's entire demeanor change at the mere mention of Akari's name. His aura was no longer black, but a soft happy yellow. The sun had risen for Ryoga; albeit briefly.

"Did—did she really?" he asked shyly, his eyes wide and hopeful, his canines peeking out.

"Moron," he grinned, relieved to see his first mate back to normal, "just go already."

Ryoga laughed giddily as he walked out the door and headed straight for the other side of the ship—the _wrong_ side. "THAT way," Ranma corrected, pointing in the opposite direction. Embarrassed, Ryoga turned to go back in the direction he had just come from, and Ranma shook his head, trying to hold back a chuckle as he watched him heading straight towards the storage dock.

In about ten minutes, Ranma was confident he'd hear Ryoga's familiar shout of frustration at being lost again echoing throughout the ship. He smirked at the thought, looking forward to some predictability for once.

In the last few days he'd had way too many surprises.

Lifting his head, he glanced out the window—and suddenly got another. Ranma's good humor quickly left him as he noticed clouds gathering on the horizon, dark and gray and heavy with rain; portending a storm. Leaving his cabin, Ranma headed above deck to evaluate the situation more closely.

He'd been right. The weather was about to get nasty; he could feel it in the wind, a skill that was almost second nature to him thanks to many years of sailing . . . though by the look of it, they might just miss the worst of it. If any ships from Nerima or their allies managed to follow them though, _they'd_ likely get the brunt of it.

Ranma grinned at that, pleased that mother nature was finally on his side for once. _I hope they come, _he thought arrogantly, full of confidence as he surveyed the slowly darkening skies. _Because they were already too late._

* * *

Far, far behind them, preparing to set sail, Kuno sneezed.

* * *

In her prison, Akane was doing remarkably well. Her short stint of helplessness and despair had quickly passed, leaving in its wake a renewed sense of determination—and a stubborn unwillingness to go down without a fight.

There was no way she was going to sit here all day staring at the wall. What if Ranma never came to see her? What if he was so afraid of being swayed, he was purposely staying away? That didn't work for Akane . . . she'd have to go to him then. She had a plan and everything, and it was so simple, it might even work.

Lying quietly on the floor, right where she'd awoken, Akane deigned to wait—her heart pounding in her chest, her breathing even and steady. It was a good thing Miss Hinako had thought to teach her patience. One time, during a particularly memorable training session, Akane had been forced to do nothing but stare at a wall for an entire day, forbidden from moving even a muscle. _This_ was child's play.

And though she could've waited much longer if necessary, it was with some relief that she finally heard a key jingling in a lock, and then the sound of a door being opened behind her. "You stay here, Mousse," said her jailer, and a small smile flitted across Akane's face when she recognized the voice; the disappointment that it wasn't Ranma, short-lived.

It was the girl with the spatula. The one who had distracted her while her friend knocked her out.

Yay! She was going to enjoy this!

Pretending to be unconscious, Akane waited with breathless anticipation as the girl crept closer. Since she wasn't facing her captor, she had to use her other senses to gauge where she was—but she could feel the floor creaking beneath her with every step that she took, could hear the girl's breathing as she came closer and closer, saw her shadow fall and knew right where she was standing. "Still out cold, huh?" the girl said, and then gently nudged Akane's body with her foot.

Akane knew an opportunity when she saw one.

Moving fast, she swept out with her foot, knocking the surprised girl right off her feet and onto the floor beside her. Then jumping up, she sprinted straight for the door, relieved to find it open, the brass key still in its lock. "Stop her, Mousse!" Ukyo shouted as she leapt to her feet too, quick as can be.

Suddenly, a tall man with long dark hair and gorgeous green eyes appeared in front of Akane, looking intense. "You're not going anywhere," he informed her, and then lunged forward aggressively.

. . . Right into the wall.

"Mousse, you jackass!" the girl behind her yelled. "I told you to put on your glasses!"

Though she was shocked, Akane didn't hesitate for long.

Grabbing the guard whose face was still crushed against the wood paneling, she lifted his surprised body into the air and tossed him over her shoulder, straight into the path of her female captor who had just about reached the door. Akane watched in satisfaction as the two bodies collided hard, falling to the floor in a beautiful, tangled heap.

"Next time fight fair!" She yelled, as she quickly slammed the door closed and turned the key in the lock, trapping them both inside. For added measure, she pocketed the ornate key.

Then Akane took off running like her life depended on it.

She was pretty sure that it did.

* * *

Ranma stretched and cursed the weather.

They might be missing the worse of the storm, but they definitely wouldn't be missing the rain. Looked like he'd be staying in tonight.

Giving final orders to his men, Ranma started heading down below, trusting Konatsu to keep the peace while he hid away in his bunk, safe, and more importantly, dry. For once, he was actually looking forward to some quiet time to sit and think. After all, he still had to figure out what to do about Akane . . . he couldn't exactly avoid her forever, no matter how appealing that option might sound.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Ranma paused, curious, positive he'd just heard something—a loud crash or a bang—something out of the ordinary. Or maybe it was Katsunishiki again, running into things as he tried to navigate the narrow halls. Deciding to investigate just in case, Ranma headed in the direction the noise had come from, and was just about to turn a corner when someone else turned too, running right into him.

The two collided. Fast and hard.

For several uncomfortable minutes, they lay entwined on the floor in the hallway, groaning in mutual pain. "Damn, that hurt," Ranma muttered, rubbing his head as he slowly sat up, throwing a glare at the reckless moron sprawled face down across his lap. He opened his mouth to yell at them when the words died in his throat—having recognized the familiar dirty cloak, and feeling the very feminine body pressed intimately against him.

The cloak was definitely Akane's.

As if to confirm his suspicions she lifted her head seconds later, her surprised eyes meeting his. "R-Ranma. . .?"

Ranma didn't bother to answer. His jaw clenched as he glared in the direction his prisoner had just come running from.

"Ukyo!" he shouted, his voice carrying down the long stretch of hall, echoing ominously around them. "WHAT THE _**HELL**_?!"

- - - - - - -  
THE END  
Chapter 4  
- - - - - - -

A/N: Thanks again to my wonderful friends for helping me with this chapter! Love you guys! :)


	5. Chapter 5

C & C welcome, not to mention needed.  
Updated: 1-24-14

- - - - - - - - - - -  
Broken Palace  
By: Angela Jewell  
- - - - - - - - - - -

Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . and yes, this fact still upsets me.

Special thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. If it wasn't for you guys, I definitely wouldn't be able to keep these updates coming at such a steady pace. It goes against my very nature as a writer. ;)

- - - - - - -  
Chapter 5  
- - - - - - -

"—_What the hell—?!_"

Akane cringed; Ranma was still mad.

Not wanting to upset him further, she chose to stay right where she was—afraid to move and draw his attention, to bring his focus and his fury back down on her. In the meantime, she was more than happy to allow Ukyo to be the source of his ire, because honestly, this wasn't going a bit like she'd expected.

This time around, _she_ wanted to be the one in control. She even had the perfect plan and everything!

First, she'd find his cabin and force her way in—blocking the door so he couldn't escape—then, speaking frankly and sincerely, she'd clear the air between them once and for all. If she was successful, hugs and possibly tears would ensue. And if not, if she couldn't find his cabin, she'd resort to Plan B: Go topside, create a scene, and threaten to throw herself overboard until they allowed her talk to Ranma.

Either way, he was sure to be furious with her . . . but at least _she'd _be the one in control, not him. Now though, it looked like she'd lost the advantage before she'd even had a chance to enjoy it. Ranma was too angry to reason with now.

She could feel the heat of his rage as he continued to fume silently beneath her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the puffs of his breath warm against the side of her neck.

Hoping to get out of his line of sight, Akane tried to slink away quietly—or to get off his lap at the very least—but to her surprise and confusion, Ranma abruptly grabbed her arm and stopped her. Suddenly, she found herself half-lying, half-sitting across her angry captor—one of her arms on the floor supporting her weight, the other suspended midair, prevented from moving by his iron-clad grip.

Akane tried uselessly to free her arm.

"Don't even think about it," he told her, his grip actually tightening.

"This isn't exactly comfortable, Ranma," she complained.

"And you think I care?" he bit back.

Akane scowled up at him, but resisted the urge to argue. If she wanted to butter him up before their big talk, she couldn't exactly afford to make him any angrier—not when he already looked ready to bite her head off.

Still, her arm _was_ starting to get tired. Making one last attempt, she tried to gently pull it away, or in the very least to loosen his grip—but Ranma would have none of that. His fingers tightened further and he pulled her forward sharply with much more force than necessary.

"I don't think so," he said, his voice cold and hard. "You're staying right where I can see you till Ukyo shows up—then I'll tie you to the damn bed if I have to!"

Thinking of the incompetence of his crew, and figuring Ranma couldn't be much better, Akane scoffed without thinking, "If you think that would help, go ahead and try it, Ranma."

"You think I won't?" he asked her, his eyes dark as he leaned closer, his voice low. "I've had a lot of practice, Akane, do you really wanna try me?" He held her gaze a moment longer, and finally, heart pounding, Akane looked away.

Had—had he been bluffing just now?

Trying to regain an edge, to prove he hadn't shaken her, Akane replied coolly, "I wasn't trying to run away, Ranma. I was _looking_ for you. Do you really think I'd risk letting you out of my sight now that I've finally found you again? I—I want to talk. That's _all_."

"Well I don't," he told her, then looked away, frustrated by his failure to read her again.

If he had this ability he was sure as hell gonna use it! Until then, he had no intention of holding any conversation where she could try to manipulate or trick her way into gaining his trust—he knew how gullible he was when it came to Akane. He wasn't about to take that chance.

Instead he turned his attention back to the hallway, silently cursing Ukyo and her stupid blunder. She better have some damn good excuse; this whole mess was her fault.

Having immediately noticed the shift in his anger, Akane felt something painful clench in her chest at that. She preferred his rage over his blatant neglect—apparently, a negative emotion was better than none at all. And as she watched him secretly, she couldn't help but wonder who it was he waiting for. He'd mentioned the name Ukyo earlier—could he be looking for the girl with the spatula? Was that her name?

Almost without realizing, Akane felt something twist in her gut that felt suspiciously like jealousy, but quickly forced it away. She wasn't thirteen anymore, and he wasn't even the same Ranma. The one she was reaching out to was her childhood friend, not her ex-fiancé—even if she realized the two had become synonymous long, long ago.

Still, being this close to him, it was hard not to notice the man he'd become. . .

He was taller and stronger now, that much was obvious. His shoulders were broader, his chest, muscular and firm, and though his features were the same, they had grown more attractive with age, less rounded and more angular. He still had his braided pigtail, but his smell, that was slightly different—like sandalwood and lavender, conjuring up memories of windy, rainy nights. And though his eyes were still that familiar shade of blue from their childhood, they'd changed somehow too—became harder, more cold.

He may not be the same thirteen year old she'd kissed . . . but he was still Ranma. Still cocky and arrogant, and still capable of making her heart race and her anger soar. At some point though, he must have felt her eyes on him, because he turned slowly to look at her, suspicion in his gaze. "What?"

She blushed, suddenly very aware of just how close they were. The hallway had never seemed so narrow, so restricting, and it felt like the temperature around her had steadily begun to rise.

"What?" he asked again, sharper this time. "Are you planning something?"

"Nothing," she said, more out of habit than anything else. Then, embarrassed by her lack of nerve, and realizing it was now or never, quickly corrected, "No, not nothing. Listen, Ranma. You want to shut me out? Fine. But just know this: I'll keep fighting. I don't care how many guards you post outside the door—I won't stop trying to escape until you agree to talk to me! You can't avoid me forever, you know."

"Wanna bet?" he said, not because he meant it, but because her tone had set him off again. "Just what part of _I'm_ in charge here, aren't you getting, Akane? If you wanna waste your time and energy breaking out of some dumb room, feel free—but you can't _make_ me talk, and since you're too dumb to realize it, we're in the middle of the sea—there's not exactly any place to escape _to_. IDIOT."

"Don't call me an idiot, Ranma!"

"Then stop ACTING like one!"

The two could've gone on fighting like that forever if not for the sound of running footsteps approaching fast from behind them. Temporarily putting their quarrel on hold, the two turned their heads in unison to find the source of the noise . . . Akane's guards were making their way towards them, another girl with long purple hair in tow.

"About goddamn time," Ranma muttered as he rubbed his head, though Akane felt her stomach drop at the sight of them.

She'd barely gotten started. . . was their time together ending already?

Only one thing cheered her up: Her two guards looked noticeably worse for wear, though the girl with the spatula visibly more so. She glared at Akane, her clothes in disarray, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders and she was clutching her spatula with both hands, just _itching_ for a chance to use it.

If looks could kill, Akane was sure she would've been dead a hundred times over. Hoping for a little less animosity and an expression that said something other than I-want-to-claw-your-eyes-out, Akane found her gaze wandering to the new girl.

. . .Only to find her glaring in much the same way.

Akane, despite herself, frowned. She just couldn't understand it—she hadn't even _met_ this one yet! What could she possibly have done to inspire that level of hatred?!

Then it hit her. The death glares, the angry scowls, the possessive glances as they looked beyond her towards Ranma. . .

Just then Ranma began to shift uncomfortably beneath her.

Oh, Akane thought, suddenly remembering just _where_ she was sitting. Blushing furiously, she tried once again to move away, positive if they stayed that way much longer they were going to incite a mutiny—only to have Ranma pull her right back into his lap, his other hand sliding around her waist to keep her still.

Akane's entire body seemed to turn red, though from anger or embarrassment she couldn't quite tell. Was he _trying_ to get her killed?! Because she was pretty sure that's exactly where this was headed—though Ranma didn't seem concerned.

"Mind telling me how this happened?" he demanded at last, turning his full attention—and for once, his anger—on someone other than Akane.

Ukyo immediately relaxed her position, looking flustered and embarrassed as she stood before him, ready to be judged. "I'm so sorry, Ran-chan," she said, offering a small bow of apology. "I was tricked by that—that _harpy_, and let my guard down for a second. But it won't happen again! You have my word!"

"You gave your word the **first** time," Ranma snapped back, incensed by the very memory of their last meeting. And though he saw her aura flare with unhappiness at the reminder, surprisingly it was Mousse's colors that managed to catch and hold his attention.

Incompetence. Failure. Recrimination. Duty.

"I'm afraid I share the blame in this fiasco as well," the other boy admitted, adjusting his glasses which he'd finally deemed to wear. "Had I guarded the door more soundly, this never would have happened."

After confessing he glanced briefly at Shampoo, as though looking for words of encouragement or compassion; he was looking in the wrong place.

"Mousse right. Mousse never dependable, even as small boy," Shampoo agreed, seconding his ineptitude. "Ranma want Shampoo guard princess now?"

Mousse visibly deflated.

"No thanks, Shampoo," Ranma replied, barely glancing at the pretty foreigner. Shampoo may be strong, capable, and smart, but she was also ruthless, devious, and manipulative. He couldn't trust her with Akane—she'd sooner see her thrown overboard than make it back to Sapporo alive. "I'll be needing you and Mousse starboard," he said instead, using the storm as the perfect excuse to keep her where he wanted her. "The weather's about to get real bad. The worse of it should miss us, but I want all capable hands on deck just to be safe."

"Got it! Let's go Shampoo," Mousse said as he headed out, grabbing Shampoo's hand along the way, undeterred by her earlier rejection—only to get smacked in the head for his trouble.

"Just who are you calling Shampoo?" Ukyo demanded.

The novelty of Mousse's eyesight had died out more than a decade ago, but Shampoo sighed anyway, looking put-out. "Stupid-Mousse," she complained as she dutifully dragged him along.

Once they had gone, Ranma turned to confront the girl responsible for his current predicament. Now that Ukyo was alone, he expected her to protest her innocence, to apologize, or make more excuses—instead she simply stood there, looking like a criminal already resigned to her fate.

Ranma sighed. He really needed to get better minions. . .

Well, if she wasn't going to say anything, he'd do the talking for them. "Damn it, Ukyo," he muttered, climbing to his feet as he dragged Akane up with him, his hold shifting down to her wrist. "You let down your guard—that's it?! Ryoga I can understand—but _you—_Fuck! Why the hell can't any of you handle one stupid girl?!"

Akane tried not to take offense at that, instead she noted with satisfaction how Ukyo had finally put away her weapon and was looking cowed and humbled. "I'm sorry," Ukyo said again, lowering her eyes. "I'll never forgive myself for disappointing you, Ran-chan. I let myself down, I let you down, I let EVERYBODY down!" When she finally glanced up tears were glistening in her big blue eyes.

Akane scoffed, unimpressed. Did she really think that would work on—

—Ranma took a small, panicked step forward. "H—hey! It's, uh, fine," he told her, avoiding her gaze this time, as though unable to bear the sight of her tears. "I mean, she's here now, right? No real harm done—not like she could go anywhere anyway. . ."

Ukyo sniffled as she delicately wiped away a tear. "Still. . ."

"Look, I'm not _mad_ anymore, alright? Just disappointed," Ranma explained, as Akane stared at him in open disgust. "So just stop crying already, would'ya?"

She nodded bravely, and Ranma sighed openly in relief. "Good. Now, why don't you go and help Shampoo and the others? With me stuck down here, they can use all the help they can get. . ."

"But . . . what about. . ." Ukyo asked, gesturing to Akane, a new fear rising within her. "I can still watch her!" she insisted quickly, desperately. "I'm fine now, and I promise I won't let her out of my sight, Ran-chan, I won't even—"

"No," Ranma said, swiftly cutting her off. No matter how well-intentioned the offer was, he was sick to death of screw-ups. "I'll handle the princess from now on, at least that way I know she won't be going anywhere."

Ukyo looked like she was about to protest, but one last look from Ranma quickly had her shutting up. "Alright," she replied, sullen, knowing when it was better to cut her losses and run. Glaring at Akane once more for good measure, she headed back upstairs with a heavy heart, her steps heavier still.

As she watched her walk away, Akane couldn't quite contain the glee she felt as she glanced sideways at Ranma. If Ranma was watching her from now on, that meant he was giving her another chance—she could _fix_ this!

"Come on," Ranma told her, dragging her in the direction of her room, not looking nearly as thrilled as Akane was.

But Akane didn't care. For once, it felt like things were finally beginning to go her way—it was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

At this point, she couldn't afford to be picky; she'd take what she could get.

* * *

Ranma was not happy.

He stopped outside the room, his eyebrow twitching. It seemed Ukyo had forgotten to tell him one small detail. . .

The door to the princess's room was gone.

He could still see parts of it attached to the hinges, hanging by wooden splinters at odd angles from its frame. The rest was lying in broken pieces around the hallway, most of them scattered outside the room. If nothing else it looked like a hurricane had swept straight through the door—probably in the form of Ukyo and Mousse. Beside him, he could hear Akane stifling a laugh.

He certainly _wished_ he could find it that funny. Instead he was angry and frustrated once again, finding himself faced with an unexpected problem.

Now where was he gonna put her?

If he put her with Ukyo or Shampoo they were likely to kill her; Akari's room was already crowded with her sumo pig; Ryoga was too stupid and gullible to be left alone with her; and all the other males onboard couldn't be trusted.

That only left Ranma's cabin. . .

And truth be told, he wasn't so sure he could be trusted either. He was a guy, after all, and Akane was very, very pretty—as Ryoga had elegantly put it. Even now, Ranma couldn't quite forget the feel of her body against his, the attractive way she blushed, or the possessive little look she had given Ukyo when she hadn't realized he'd been watching. He'd certainly taken his sweet time letting her up from his lap too. . .

Even with her this close now, he could feel something like electricity pulsing in the air between them. And though he still couldn't see her aura, he was starting to think it might not matter.

That inner fire . . . the thing that had drawn him to her in the marketplace. . . it was still there. It was in every little gesture; every word she spoke; every glare she shot his way. He didn't need to read her aura to see it.

And it was getting harder and harder for him to stay mad at her, to convince himself that everything they'd told him was true. He knew everyone else believed she was guilty—auras couldn't lie—but believing something, and being right, those were two totally different things. And though being wrong scared him spitless, it also made him feel strangely alive, for maybe the first time in forever.

She was right. They had to talk.

Unconsciously he loosened his grip on her arm, having finally come to a decision. He began to lead her away from the broken remnants of her prison—heading towards a new and very familiar one.

He really hoped he didn't regret this.

Though something within him knew that he would.

- - - - - - -  
THE END  
Chapter 5  
- - - - - - -

A/N: Sorry guys, this chapter just wasn't jelling for me this week, and it felt like my writing skills went on holiday. Hopefully next week's will be better and I'll have some time to revise this further in my spare time. And sorry, I know these chapters are short, but better something than nothing - if I tried to make them longer I would never meet my deadline and would've given up posting this ages ago. At least you get a new chapter every Friday, and regardless of length, that's not a bad deal. :)


	6. Chapter 6

C & C welcome, not to mention needed.  
Updated: 1-31-14

- - - - - - - - - - -  
Broken Palace  
By: Angela Jewell  
- - - - - - - - - - -

Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . and yes, this fact still upsets me.

Special thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. If not for you guys, I definitely wouldn't be able to keep these updates coming at such a steady pace. Every time I get a review in my inbox, inspiration seems to follow! :)

- - - - - - -  
Chapter 6  
- - - - - - -

His cabin wasn't exactly fit for royalty. It was narrow, cramped, and as empty as the room Akane had left behind, with only the bare essentials to make it feel lived in—a bed, closet, trunk, desk—and little else. But Ranma didn't mind.

At the time, he had thought it perfect. No unnecessary junk to clutter it up, no extra space for Shampoo, Kodachi, or Ukyo to try to weasel their way in. The larger rooms would be put to better use by the girls, anyhow—so taking the small cabin for himself had seemed like a no-brainer at the time.

Now though, he was starting to regret it.

It was big enough for him, sure—but add another person to the mix and suddenly the small space became even smaller—the bed, ironically, almost _too_ large. He knew how it must look, especially for Akane who had grown up in the castle with all sorts of extravagances and wide, open spaces. _She_ _knew_ how he used to live—how his own room, though lacking in opulence, had been spacious once too, how his bathroom could've fit inside this one several times over.

Five years later and _this_ was what he was reduced to. . . a room that was essentially the size of _one_ of her closets.

For Ranma, it was a harrowing reminder of just how much he'd lost; though stacked against the bigger picture, the state of his living quarters paled in comparison. Who cared about the size of his room when he'd lost his sister, his pride, his home, his fiancée, his entire fucking _future_ in the span of a single day?

Akane, standing in the doorway, quiet for once—said it all. He could read what she was thinking in the set of her eyes and the turn of her lips, even if he couldn't read it in her aura. Sorrow and sympathy—the last two things he'd ever wanted to see from her. All it did was make him even angrier.

"I know it doesn't look like much," he said, feeling the need to defend himself, "but it's still better than the brig. Unless," he added with narrowed eyes, "you'd prefer sleeping with the rats?"

Terrified by the thought, Akane quickly shook her head. "No! No, this is fine," she assured him. Still, she shifted uneasily, biting her lip as she looked the room over with a less critical eye, but an eye all the same. For whatever reason, her gaze kept returning to the floor by his bed—only to look away guiltily as soon as she felt his eyes on her.

_That_ look set him on edge.

Even if his cabin didn't look like much, she was his damn prisoner, not a fucking house guest. She wasn't exactly in a position to be choosy.

Tired of trying to placate her, Ranma decided to remind her just who was in charge here. Grabbing her by the wrist, he shoved her towards the bed, watching dispassionately as she stumbled and fell, a surprised cry escaping her lips as her body hit the mattress hard.

She looked up at him seconds later glaring, that familiar fire back in her eyes. "Honestly. Did you really have to _push_ me?" she muttered, sitting up slowly.

"Not really," he replied, and fought back a grin.

He never did get tired of seeing her angry . . . he wondered why that was.

Still, as fun as it was to piss her off, he knew he couldn't afford to leave her that way for long. The last thing he wanted was to return later and find his room torn apart and his window smashed. When left to her own devices, Akane could do just as much damage as a shi-shi-hokodan.

So taking pains to clear his throat, Ranma worked up the courage to try and mollify her—at least for now. The moment he'd decided to bring her back to his room, he knew he was stuck having to hear her out—but first, he had a ship to run and a crew to protect. Waiting a half-hour more wasn't going to kill her.

"Look," he began, already prepared for an argument; they couldn't seem to hold a conversation without one. "There's a bit of a storm coming—nothing major or nothin', but I still have a few things I gotta tie up before I can settle down and deal with you. If you were serious before though, about trying to find me, about wanting to talk—I'll hear you out—but it's gonna have to wait till after I get back."

Akane actually frowned, not happy or grateful at all. "How do I know this isn't some elaborate trick?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "You haven't exactly been accommodating so far, Ranma. What if you don't even bother coming back? Or—or what if you're sick of dealing with me, and plan to pump some weird gas into the room to make me pass out, or—?"

Ranma struggled to keep a straight face, and held up a hand to stop her. "If I wanted you out-of-action, Akane, there's easier ways to go about it—remember the butcher shop?" Akane blushed furiously, indicating she hadn't forgotten at all. "Besides, just how stupid do you think I am?" he went on, putting a hand behind his head in casual indifference. "If I didn't return, you'd do something dumb like trying to rip the door off its hinges or something, and frankly, I'm running out of places to put you. So yeah, I'll come back—I promise."

She liked the sound of that, but. . . "Can I trust you?" she asked him, the words halting and strained. Knowing she had trusted him with her life once, and now, couldn't even trust him at his word, was sobering. It _hurt. _But Ranma nodded firmly, unaware of the toll that question had taken on her.

"I always keep my word, Akane," he assured her flippantly. "I haven't changed that much."

She wasn't sure if she believed him, but she _wanted_ to trust him so badly, wanted to believe there was still something left of the old Ranma in him . . . so without reservation, she took him at his word. And once that burden was eliminated, Akane finally smiled for him; a real smile, warm and genuine and powerful enough to make his heart skip a beat. "Thanks, Ranma," she told him softly, sincerely. But not before adding with playful menace, "But you better keep your promise! I meant what I said back there—I'll hunt you down if I have to—you _will_ hear me out!"

"No problem," he said, and couldn't help but smile too, as if the expression was contagious. "As long as you're here when I get back, you can talk till you're blue in the face. Just—no more trying to escape, deal?"

"Deal," she said, and nodded with complete seriousness.

Satisfied that they'd finally reached a compromise, Ranma nodded, pleased with himself, and finally turned to go. But not before sparing one last look over his shoulder at his prisoner, something bothersome tugging at the back of his mind. She hadn't moved an inch. She was sitting patiently on his bed, her hands in her lap, smiling brightly and looking entirely too happy. Like a dog eagerly awaiting its master's return.

For some reason, that bothered him.

Ignoring it for now, Ranma stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, locking it just to be safe. Once away from the curious eyes of his prisoner, he stared at the hard-grained wood of the door as he tried to figure out what was setting him on edge.

Suddenly something clicked.

Her reaction . . . it wasn't making sense.

No matter how he looked at it, she wasn't acting like a girl who was about to confess—like someone who was guilty. And Ranma _knew_ guilt. In the past five years it had become a frequent ally and unwelcome friend. Akane, sitting happily on the bed, relieved and practically glowing, could not possibly feel it.

He had thought it briefly in the hallway too, when he had decided to bring her back to his room . . . but now the uncertainties were back, tenfold. _Was she innocent after all. . .?_

Just the thought brought the doubts he'd harbored five years ago rushing back to the surface—even the beatings he had suffered at the hands of his father and Happosai hadn't been enough to drown them out completely. Hating her had taken effort, not to mention years—yet, within seconds, all it took from her was a simple look or a smile, and all that malice had melted right away, as if it never existed. It was unnerving. It was _frightening_.

No one should have that kinda power over a person.

And if he couldn't read her aura, could he trust anything she had to say? If she was lying, would he even be able to tell? Would he even **care**?

Ranma wasn't so sure. Akane had been his best friend, his fiancée, his first love. They may have only been kids then, but those kinds of feelings, they didn't just go away—no matter how much he had wanted them to. He was only sure of one thing: He needed answers. Figuring out the lies from the truths could come later.

Shoving the key into his pocket, Ranma started to jog down the hall, headed further below deck to the engine room. Confronting her was important, but making sure the people on his ship were safe came first. _After_ the storm was over, then she'd have some explaining to do.

And Akane better hope he liked her answers. . .

* * *

Inside her latest prison Akane sat quietly, silently observing her room—no, she thought with a slight blush—_Ranma's_ _room_. She had no idea why he hadn't mentioned it earlier, but the Chinese-style shirt shoved half-way under his bed, similar to the one he'd just been wearing, was obviously his—and unlike the last place, this one definitely felt lived in. Cozy even.

And it_ smelled_ like him.

Why he'd brought her here, of all places, she had no idea . . . but for now she had no intention of complaining. _Because_, she thought with a giddy smile, _I'm in Ranma's room_. No way he could hide from her now!

Not quite able to contain her glee, Akane stood up from the bed, tempted to do a little snooping around. Though she didn't normally condone this sort of behavior, after everything she'd been through, she figured a little payback was definitely in order.

She'd start with his desk. If there was anything of interest to be found, she knew it would be in there. In her mind, she was already envisioning her letters stuffed in one of the many drawers, creased with time and well-read—even if he hadn't forgiven her, he still would've kept those, right? One mortifying letter in particular she wanted to find and throw away for good.

With high expectations, Akane opened several of the drawers, disappointed to find each and every one of them empty. In fact, it didn't look like he used the desk at all. She didn't see any ink or paper, no maps or compasses—things you'd normally expect to find in a captain's room. Did he do anything in here besides sleep? she wondered.

Disappointed, Akane turned and looked towards the other side of the cabin, the area Ranma had been blocking when he'd first let her in. She spotted something interesting almost immediately. There, in the very corner of the room, half-hidden by the darkening shadows, was a rather large traveling trunk.

Akane couldn't help but think, _maybe the letters are in there_. . .

Walking up to it slowly, she tried to ignore the inner voice in her head that was busy trying to dissuade her from opening it. She wasn't sure why, but there was something more personal about a closed chest, much more so than a couple wooden drawers thrown into a hastily assembled desk. Besides, the voice insisted, it was probably only filled with clothes anyway.

Still, curiosity proved too strong to ignore. Kneeling beside it, Akane's hands reached out to unclasp the trunk's lid, relieved to find that at least it was unlocked. Whatever he was hiding in there must not be too valuable, she decided. But even so, her heart fell the second she was confronted with a trunk full of clothes—only clothes, stuffed full, nothing else.

Maybe he hadn't brought them along after all. Maybe he had burned them.

Stupid Ranma. . .

Akane's heartbeat slowly began to steady as she closed the trunk's lid and leaned against the wall, trying to fight back the bitter disappointment. "He only ever answered one of them anyway," she quietly berated herself. "Why in the world did you ever think he'd have _kept_ them?"

She didn't receive an answer.

Instead, she heard the sound of a door creaking open behind her.

Akane turned, surprised but excited, never having expected Ranma to be back so soon—only to find the doorway inauspiciously empty—the door, slightly ajar. She stared at it, trying to understand what was going on. Had Ranma not locked it after all? Had a draft forced it open? Or was this some kind of test?

Crossing her arms stubbornly against her chest, Akane scowled. She wasn't falling for such an obvious trick. Did he think she was that gullible?

Still, she moved towards it—just to check and make sure no one was hovering outside, waiting to attack. Knowing the company Ranma kept, it was a definite possibility. So approaching cautiously this time, she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, peeking quickly around the corner, still in defense mode. She looked down both sides of the corridor, only to confirm the hallway was indeed empty.

Figuring it could have been a trick of the wind, or normal for a ship as old as this one, she moved to shut it, determined to put it out of her mind once and for all. If someone had opened it, they were likely long gone by now anyway.

. . .at least, that's what she'd _thought_.

"Nihao," a voice greeted as a masked-head dropped down from above her, hanging upside down from the ceiling outside.

Akane, shocked, took a startled step backwards.

But it was already too late.

Quick as can be, the intruder's hands had shot out, two fingers extended towards Akane's temples. There, they pressed down hard and stayed, holding the position until Akane's eyes closed, and she had slumped to the floor seconds later, blissfully unconscious.

Satisfied the element of surprise had paid off, Shampoo dropped to the ground soundlessly, like a cat, on all fours—then careful not to be seen, wasted no time in dragging the princess's body back inside, closing the door quietly behind them. Safe at last, she removed the rain-slicked mask she wore and shook out her long purple hair, grinning proudly as she stood over the princess, surveying her prize. "Shampoo do remote-control acupressure," she informed her happily. "Now Akane do what Shampoo say."

Leaning over the prone girl then, she whispered her command in Akane's ear, clearly and precisely, just the way she'd practiced. And then sat back to wait, anxious for her slave to awaken and obey.

She could practically feel Ranma's warm, possessive touch already.

The smile that came to her face at that thought, was almost feral. Nothing in the world that could match possessing Ranma—and if Lady Nodoka spoke true, then that once strong, proud, handsome, virile man would bow to her, and her alone.

Shampoo could hardly wait.

* * *

Ukyo was ninety-nine percent sure she'd misheard him, so she repeated her question one last time, just to confirm that extra one percent.

"The princess is staying in your room? Alone? With you?" She laughed, it was that absurd. "You're joking, right?"

Again, Ranma shook his head. So Ukyo repeated the question one more time.

Ryoga, already testy after trying and failing to locate Akari, complained, "I'd give it up if I were you. He's not going to change his mind just because you're in a pathetic, embarrassing state of denial. Have a little class, why don't you?"

His complaint was met with a battle spatula to the head. "Butt out! This has nothing to do with you, Ryoga!"

"It DOES when I have to listen to it!" he insisted, and got another smack to the head for his trouble.

"What's the big deal anyway," Ranma muttered, confused and annoyed. "I was gonna be guarding her anyway—who cares if it's in my room, or the spare one?"

"Don't you understand?" Ukyo repeated in disbelief, walking right up to him, her voice shrill as she poked him in the chest. "A guy's room is a very private place, Ran-chan—you can't bring just _anybody_ there! And isn't that what she's been plotting all along? To get you alone so she can lie and manipulate you? You've played right into her hands!"

Ranma glowered, offended that she thought he could be manipulated so easily by anyone. "Well, what exactly did you expect me to do?" he asked her, going on the offensive. "The door to her room was blasted off the god-damn hinges, and I couldn't exactly put her with any of you."

At the reminder, Ukyo had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Well, no, I suppose not," she allowed, racking her brain for a solution. "Couldn't you have tied her up and thrown her in the galley or the brig or something? Any place else would've done as well!"

"Sure, surround her with disease-infested rats or sharp knives. Great plan," Ryoga nodded.

The first two strikes to the head hadn't done any good, but that didn't deter Ukyo from trying with a third. "Would you PLEASE quiet that stupid mouth of yours!?"

"Look, either way, I don't have time for this," Ranma told her, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I didn't come up here to hear your complaints—I just wanted you guys to know where I'd be in case you needed me. This isn't even open for debate!"

"But Ran-chan!"

Ranma gave her a look that could freeze steel, and to prove the conversation was over and done with, turned to go, ready to get back to Akane as promised, and away from those dark, forbidding clouds overhead.

. . .Unfortunately, he was seconds too late.

It was just a few harmless drops at first, scattered across the deck. But within seconds, those same innocent drops had developed into a million tiny driblets, and a mighty downpour that stopped Ranma in his tracks. Finding himself caught in the middle of it, he swore under his breath, cursing his damn luck as the transformation took hold, as he shrunk, his hair turned red, and his voice became higher, more feminine.

"Great! Just fucking GREAT! Thanks a bunch, Ukyo—this is just what I needed!"

Ukyo hung her head, cowed and repentant; well aware of how his curse affected him. "Sorry, hun! I'll go get you some hot water," she told him and hurried away.

Ranma frowned as he leaned against the railing, his eyes closed.

Not having to see himself definitely helped.

Although it had been five years now, he still wasn't use to the change—to the feeling of being _her_—and he knew that he never would be. In any case, he couldn't exactly show himself to Akane like this, not unless he was willing to walk to the kitchens himself—to feel the extra baggage on his chest, to see _her _hair falling over his eyes with every step, to feel his entire body being out of whack. No, he would sooner hold fast and wait for Ukyo to return.

Damn. But he hated this fucking curse.

"Tough luck," Ryoga observed from beside him. "Isn't this exactly what you were trying to avoid?"

Ranma growled. "Thanks, Ryoga. Real helpful."

The wind was starting to pick up now, sending the rain lashing against them, soaking him more than he already was—and Ranma shivered, not having thought to dress any warmer, and absolutely refusing to cross his arms over his chest. By now, he'd expected to be back in his cabin, nice and warm, fully male, and holding a very important conversation with Akane.

Not stranded on deck as his sister.

Hoping to distract himself from the cold, Ranma opened one eye and fought to see through the pounding rain, surveying the deck while he waited for his water and an umbrella. Thankfully it was swamped with people—tying down lines, securing cargo, tightening the sails—and he knew Konatsu was on the other side of the ship, at the helm as promised, keeping them on course. His crew may be helpless when it came to handling a prisoner, but at least they knew how to run a tight ship. Apparently not _everyone_ could be as competent as he was. . .

"Hey, Ranma," Ryoga said, a lilt to his voice.

Ranma turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Isn't that Akane?"

Positive the idiot was seeing things, Ranma shielded his eyes the best he could, following the direction Ryoga was pointing. Sure enough, she was out there, alright—looking windswept and cold, doing her best to not get blown away as she headed portside, her hair and cloak whipping about her as she fought to stay vertical.

He swore she even had a big stupid grin on her face.

This time, when Ranma started to curse, it wasn't under his breath. His knuckles were white from holding the railing in a death grip, and he was so mad he couldn't think straight. Finally, after a few calming breaths, he relaxed.

"Alright," he said aloud, with surprising calm. "Now I'm going to kill her."

- - - - - - -  
THE END  
Chapter 6  
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A/N: I know the pace is a bit slow, but certain things need to be set in motion before they can adequately address "the elephant in the room". So till then, thanks again for your patience and continued support. We're getting closer now, I promise! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

C & C welcome, not to mention needed.  
Updated: 2-06-14

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Broken Palace  
By: Angela Jewell  
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Disclaimer: Didn't own them then, don't own them now . . . and yes, this fact still upsets me.

Special thanks to all my wonderful reviewers this chapter: pursemonger, Flameraven1, pahlee, ToraHimeSama, Luna12, KaChan84, Darksouled Saiyanphoenix, tii-chan, Compucles, karinaOswag, O'Donoghue, and tomboy 26. You guys definitely help keep me sane and motivated! :)

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Chapter 7  
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"If you're going to kill her, does that mean the wedding's off?"

Ranma ignored the voice of his friend, too busy willing the stubborn girl below to slip and fall. The wind and rain was doing a pretty good job all on its own, but somehow she was managing to stay upright—he watched as she swayed back and forth unsteadily, braving a particularly ferocious tempest, determined to get to wherever she was going with a stubborn tenacity that surprised even him.

Should he strangle her? Bring out a slab of wood and make her walk the plank? Throw her in the brig to feed the rats? The possibilities were endless, and Ranma was having trouble deciding which one to go with.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of Ryoga laughing that he was brought back to himself. Hearing the obnoxious sound, he turned to glare, an expression that would've been much more intimidating on his male-form than on his current, tiny, red-headed one. "What are _you_ laughing at?" he demanded, incensed. "I don't find this funny, Ryoga!"

Ryoga wildly shook his head, putting his hands up before him defensively. "No, sorry, me either," he insisted, but then snickered again.

This time it was Ranma's turn to hit him, though without a spatula handy he had to make do with his fist. "Do you WANT me to throw you overboard that badly, you jerk? Because I can make that happen!"

"Sorry," he apologized, successfully this time, and reigned in the laughter. "Right then, don't worry, I'll go get her."

"You?" Cocking an eyebrow, it was Ranma's turn to laugh. "That's real funny, Ryoga, considering she smiles at you and your brain turns to mush . . . not to mention the fact you'd never be able to _find_ her."

"I can find her!" Ryoga defended, insulted by the jibe, however true it may be. "She may be cute, Ranma, but I'm not so pathetic as to fall for the same trick twice! You just watch!"

The boy-turned-girl rolled his eyes, but found his own options pathetically limited—he couldn't exactly face her now, not looking like this—and tempting though it may be, allowing Ryoga to wander off and get lost again wouldn't help their situation at all.

Katsunishiki would definitely kick him for that.

No, it was imperative to keep Ryoga right where he was. At least until Shampoo returned with Akari, or Ukyo got back with the water. Until then, the tomboy would have to do her best not to get herself killed—a skill she'd been pretty proficient at so far.

Turning to Ryoga, he gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Hey, man, don't sweat it. I've already got some people keeping an eye on her anyway—" conveniently omitting the fact that those "people" were him and Ryoga. "—she's fine right where she is. Besides, a little rain will do her some good—if she catches a cold, maybe she'll finally stay put!"

Ryoga laughed derisively. "Well now," he scoffed. "Isn't that just like you, Ranma . . . taking the _easy_ way out. What's the matter? One princess too much for you to handle?"

Though he knew better, Ranma bristled at his words. "Oh, like YOU'RE one to talk," he shot back, referencing his epic screw-up from earlier. "You don't see ME falling to pieces over a pretty face, or letting my captive PRANCE right out of captivity while I sit there stupidly twiddling my thumbs!"

"That—that's not fair, Ranma!" he sputtered, his face blazing though several interesting shades of red. "I already explained all that!"

Ranma dismissed the lost boy's protests with a wave of his hand, already used to his tired excuses. Instead, his eyes returned to Akane, enjoying the view as she continued valiantly fighting to stay vertical. It was with some disappointment then, that she finally reached the coveted railing, and taking a moment to steady herself, paused just long enough to catch her bearings and reclaim her balance.

_Then_ she did something fucking crazy.

Ranma watched as she grabbed the ship's railing, and ignoring the wind and the rain, and the crashing waves below, began to _climb_—that same stupid grin plastered across her suddenly wan face.

Just what the **hell** was she doing?!

His heart suddenly in his throat, he stared at her—the part of his mind that _wasn't_ numb from disbelief and shock, looking on helplessly, dazed, as she paused at the very top, teetering precariously where she stood—only to tumble over the side gracelessly, head over heels, into the churning waters below.

. . .Like a shot, everything hit him at once.

She was doing this JUST to piss him off! If she thought she could escape him _that_ easily, she had another thing coming!

"Stupid, klutzy tomboy," he seethed.

Ranma ran without thought, forcing Ryoga to follow behind cluelessly—looking just as lost and confused as Ranma had felt moments before. Then, having reached the very spot where the princess had been standing, Ryoga watched, shocked, as Ranma did something just as monumentally stupid.

He jumped right in after her.

* * *

For a moment, Akane felt weightless.

Then reality came crashing down around her, and true, honest terror greeted her as waves slammed into her body, stealing her very breath as she was dragged helplessly beneath the icy surface. Horrified, she began to panic—but no matter how hard she fought, she continued to sink, her eyes burning as she struggled to keep them open.

She was frozen. Truly and completely _petrified_.

Where was she?! What in the world was happening?!

She could no longer tell which way was up, where down was—the sea and the cold overwhelmed her, disorienting her, making her question if she was still facing the surface at all. But she continued to struggle in desperation, until finally, she could hold her breath no longer. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as water filled her lungs, a fire exploding within her—her chest tight from the strain.

And when her eyes were growing heavy, when her lungs felt ready to burst, in the growing darkness and terror, she saw it—

—a flash of memory, so clear, it was like a photograph springing to life.

_Ranko, lying on the floor, bleeding profusely, her body cradled in Akane's arms . . . the Tendo sword dropping from nerveless fingers, covered in her friend's blood . . ._

Water choked back her screams, and soon, all Akane could see was darkness.

* * *

Seconds felt like hours as Ranma fought to ignore the cold, his eyes stinging as he struggled to see through the darkness of the water, forcing himself on. He could feel the pressure in his lungs straining as they neared his breaking point, and knew he was almost at his limit.

For a moment, he thought of giving up—if she wanted to die so badly, then the fucking sea could _have_ her—but, despite the pain, he kept on searching, his pulse hammering in his ears, the ache in his chest intensifying with every excruciating second. Finally, when he thought he had no choice but to retreat or drown himself, he saw something . . . a faint red glow out of the corner of his eye, gleaming through the murkiness of the water, beckoning him towards it.

Ranma, feeling desperate, drew closer, surprised and relieved when he finally saw Akane's body drifting before him, a bright crimson light surrounding her like a protective shield. Her aura, shining once more. He could see terror there—but nothing else.

Then just as quickly, the light faded out altogether, leaving them in the darkness once more.

But that one glimpse had been enough.

He reached her in seconds. Grabbing a hold of her wrist, Ranma pulled her towards him—trying to ignore the way she didn't respond to his touch, and the cold clammy feel of her hand in his. Ranma wasted no time. With his arm wrapped tightly around her, he headed for the surface, coughing and spluttering as he broke through the turbulent waves with a burst of speed and power he didn't realize he still had in him.

It took him several moments to orient himself and catch his breath, but when he did he turned to look at Akane, terrified by the paleness of her face, the clamminess of her skin. He forced himself to look away, his eyes searching for a crew member, a life preserver—_anything_.

"Ranma! Grab a hold, quick!"

Somehow, miraculously, he managed to follow the voice, and turned to see Ryoga leaning over the side of The Silky Darling, having thrown something overboard and right towards them. It was floating off to his right, bobbing in the sea; a beacon in its own right.

Ranma struggled towards it, feeling the strain of their combined weight in his small female form. But finally, gratefully, he reached it, and in a hoarse voice, he yelled for his men to pull them up. He could hear them shouting above him, pulling the rope that connected the buoy to the ship.

But Ranma didn't hear them. His gaze and his attention was fixed solely on the girl barely breathing in his arms.

* * *

It didn't take long for Akane to come back to herself . . . and when she did, it was to see two familiar blue eyes staring down at her; large and round and wracked with worry. For a moment, she thought for sure she was still dreaming. The girl had red hair, tied in a braid just like Ranma's—and her face, the concerned look in her eyes—it was familiar.

It was like she was looking at Ranko. . .

Only Ranko was dead.

Slowly Akane sat up, her eyes never leaving the girl who was sitting beside her, her face hovering. Her heart sped up as she remembered everything she'd seen in the darkness of the rushing water.

The sword she could remember holding . . .

Ranko's dead body lying in her arms . . .

And then the girl spoke, her voice eerily familiar.

"Akane . . . are you okay?"

Akane couldn't think rationally after that. Tears filled her eyes, and a tightness enclosed her chest as she began to back away quickly, desperate to put distance between herself and the talking phantom before her.

Was she dead?—was she seeing things? _What_ was going on?

The girl—the spirit—whatever she was, continued to watch her warily from a good ten feet away. Akane, feeling slightly better now that she had some room to think, leaned forward slightly, her eyes locked on the familiar blue eyes—eyes that were so much like Ranma's, but now in the face of his twin. Her throat ached and her body felt cold, but somehow she finally found the strength to speak; her voice anxious and hopeful.

"Ranko . . .? Is—is it _really_ you?"

A startled look crossed Ranko's face at her question, and then, inexplicably, her eyes fell down to stare at her well-endowed chest, her expression troubled. Akane could have sworn she seemed almost angry. But then, with eyes full of emotion, she finally lifted her head, struggling, "Akane, wait a minute—this isn't what it looks like—"

But Akane didn't hear her. Not really.

She could only stare back, her mind and eyes at war with what she was seeing. She didn't register _what_ the other girl was saying—only that she was **saying** it. Ranko was alive—she didn't kill her! Tears fell from her eyes freely now, watching as her friend sat there, living, breathing—looking alive and as healthy as she'd ever seen her.

"So," Ranko continued obliviously, unaware that Akane hadn't been listening. "—you understand, right?"

With a cry of "Ranko!" Akane launched herself at the other girl, hugging her tightly—a little _too_ tightly, Ranma noticed as he felt his breath suddenly being squeezed out of him.

"Hey!" he protested, "did you even hear a word I said?"

Akane proved yet again, that she hadn't. Unbelievable guilt, coupled by a throbbing pain in her chest, made her start speaking before she even realized what she was saying. "I'm so sorry, Ranko," she whispered, images from her memories plaguing her conscience as Ranma stared down at her.

Akane's tears came harder now, her body wracked with sobs as she began to apologize over and over again; her face buried in Ranko's shirt, clutching at it like it was her life-line. But the harder she cried, the more her words became muffled and indistinguishable, though Ranma said nothing as he watched her.

"All my fault" — "please, Ranko" — "I'm _**sorry**_."

Finally, he had heard enough.

He had to make her stop before he threw her back into the sea. . .

Slipping his arm behind her, his fingers found the point at the base of her skull, and pushing lightly, activated the acupressure point that would instantly put her to sleep. Ranma caught her in his arms as her body collapsed against his seconds later, the hands that were gripping his shirt finally loosening.

Turning to the closest crewman, he gritted out, "I'm taking her to my room—bring the hot water there." Without another word, he picked the princess up in his arms and headed back towards his cabin.

. . .Their talk could no longer wait.

- - - - - - -  
THE END  
Chapter 7  
- - - - - - -

A/N: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. The original was several pages longer, but after all the revising I did on earlier chapters, most of it had to be cut. And since the next chapter is almost entirely flash-back, there was just no way to transition it over. On the good-news front, from here on out, the story actually starts progressing – so thanks for sticking with it this far! :)


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